A Raven's Cry and A Raven's Fear
by YellowDartVader
Summary: For the tortured artist and tortured author, forever may not come easily. Contentment can never last too long. But maybe all the pain will bring an unfamiliar emotion: immeasurable joy. Lucas/Peyton, alternate 6.12
1. Raven's Cry 1

Author's Note: I have written fanfic for many years, but this is my first One Tree Hill story. I have always liked OTH (especially once Lucas and Brooke broke up – I hated them together), but never enough to write fanfic. Until now.

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A Raven's Cry

by the Yellow Dart

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Peyton groaned as she reluctantly opened her eyes. Light streamed in through the window, almost like it was mocking her. Stifling a yawn, she gazed across Lucas's empty side of the bed at the alarm clock. The numbers were startlingly clear. "10:30? Damn it," Peyton muttered, suddenly aware of exactly how late she was.

Reluctantly pushing the blankets off her legs, she ran her hands across her face to wipe at least some of the sleep from her eyes. As she stretched to crack her back, she found herself gazing longingly at Lucas's empty side of the bed.

Laughing at herself, she tried to ignore the pangs of loneliness. When had she turned into such a sap? In the last few months, maybe she had lost her mind.

Shaking her head, she slid her bare feet to the ground and padded toward the bathroom, internally scolding herself for being so dependent on Lucas. She had lived on her own for so many years, but now, without him, she couldn't even set her alarm clock correctly.

As she showered and dressed, she went over the day's schedule in her mind. There was no question about it: today was going to drag. All she had to do was paperwork, paperwork and more paperwork. After neglecting them for a few weeks with the USO benefit and with Mia back in town, the contracts and bills had grown into a small mountain on her desk. But she couldn't ignore it any longer. Just the thought made her head pound.

Hoping to stop her pounding headache before it really started, she popped a few ibuprofen after she brushed her teeth. As she applied her makeup, she tried not to think any more about the boring day ahead.

Sighing, Peyton slipped her shoes on and grabbed her phone from the dresser before she headed out the door. When she looked at the phone, she noticed a text from Lucas. With a slight frown, she realized that he must have sent it while she was in the shower or when she was getting dressed.

As she read his simple message of love, her lips curved into a small smile. A blush spread across her cheeks as she read further as his words grew sexier and more flirtatious. Although she wasn't any more ready to face the day, at least she knew her fiancé loved her. And maybe that would give her the energy to conquer her work. The sooner the day was over, the sooner Lucas would be home.

On her way to her car, her well-trained fingers typed a quick message in reply and sent it to Lucas. She hoped it would make him realize that he had a fiancée who loved him, too. And just maybe it would brighten the day she knew he dreaded.

________________________________________________________________________

Today was going to be . . . long. Barely listening to Dixon's latest rant about the script, Lucas glanced surreptitiously at his watch and tried to hide a groan. Only one o'clock. "Damn it," he muttered. He didn't even have a chance to check his messages because Dixon wouldn't give him a moment's peace.

"Did you say something?" Dixon didn't even look up from whatever he was doing in the corner of the room. For all Lucas knew, Dixon was snorting more coke off his script or doing something equally disgusting.

Although Lucas wanted to speak out -- to call Dixon the ass he was -- he restrained himself. Through his teeth, Lucas managed to choke out a response. "No, I didn't say anything."

"Oh," Dixon answered, crossing the distance between them, "guess I'm hearing things." Without letting Lucas say anything else, Dixon changed the subject, "Now, let's talk about this piece of shit script."

Lucas's mouth dropped. "What?" He wanted nothing more at this moment than to punch that cocky look off Dixon's face.

"You heard me." Dixon laughed almost maniacally. "Now, I just don't see it; why does Lucas have to end up with Peyton?"

Voice laced with barely restrained anger, Lucas said, "Have you even read the book . . . or the script?"

"I have read the script. But I don't buy it. The script. The relationship. Lucas and Peyton --"

Staring at Dixon like he had grown a horn out of the middle of his forehead, Lucas growled, "-- Belong together." His voice grew to a barely restrained yell. "You obviously haven't even read the book. It's a love story. Lucas and Peyton's love story."

Cocking his head to the side, Dixon said, "Nope, I don't see it."

Towering over Dixon, with a menacing look on his face, Lucas growled, "Look harder."

With eyes wide like a madman Dixon jumped onto the coffee table. "I told you, I don't see it. Lucas and Haley, I see."

"How?" Lucas's expression turned to one of disdain. "Nowhere --"

Dixon interrupted, "-- Even though it's cliché, I guess I can see Lucas and Brooke --"

"-- No." The response was unequivocal.

Dixon shrugged, "Audiences will love it. " With an evil tint in his eyes, Dixon added, "And I guess . . . if we're looking for a slightly different audience, I can see Lucas and, what's his name, Skills --"

"-- What?" At this point, Lucas was virtually certain that Dixon was insane. Squinting at Dixon, Lucas declared, "Peyton. He's with Peyton. Or else there is no movie." Contract be damned.

To be Continued


	2. Raven's Cry 2

Contracts . . . Peyton was pretty sure that she didn't want to deal with another one for a very long time. As she initialed and signed what seemed like the fiftieth form today, she sighed. At this point, she wasn't even positive what she was signing anymore. She'd stopped reading in detail over an hour ago.

After she crossed the "t" in her name for the final time, she tossed her pen onto her desk. With minimal interruptions, today had actually gone quite a bit faster than she had feared. The paperwork was boring, but every time she looked up at the clock, it seemed like another hour had passed. Now that she was done, she was going home and curling up on the couch with an old, romantic movie and a tub of ice cream . . . Maybe she'd watch Casablanca tonight; for some reason, it reminded her of Lucas.

Glancing at the clock again, she was surprised to see that it was almost eight o'clock. She'd worked through dinner . . . and lunch, apparently. Strangely, she'd been so absorbed in her work that she hadn't even been hungry.

But now, she was so hungry her stomach hurt. Grabbing a Thai take-out menu out of her desk, she reached for the phone. Before she punched any numbers, she heard the door to her office open and shut.

"Peyton? You still here?" a familiar voice called from the hallway.

Placing the phone back on the cradle, Peyton exclaimed, with a smile, "Haley? What's up?"

Haley came into Peyton's office and perched against the doorframe with a bit of a conspiratorial grin. "Guess what I have?" She held up a few pieces of paper.

Peyton nearly screamed with excitement, "You finished it?"

Haley merely nodded.

"Let me hear it." Peyton practically jumped out of her chair, ignoring the sharp pain that started around her belly button and spread down her right side.

Haley hurried toward the studio without even waiting for Peyton's instructions.

Peyton took a few steps toward the control panel, but froze as an even stronger pain shot from her right hip up to her rib cage. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to keep walking.

The pain didn't stop.

It hurt to stand. It hurt to walk. It hurt to breathe.

Breath coming in gasps, Peyton doubled over in pain, clutching her right side. Looking at Haley, eyes pleading, she tried to exclaim, "Help!" But the words came out more as a muffled scream.

Haley spun at the sound of Peyton's scream. She dropped the papers she'd been holding and rushed to Peyton's side. Her tone was even, but held a frantic undertone, when she said, "What's wrong?"

"Hurts," Peyton moaned, unable to say much more.

Gathering Peyton's crumpled form into her arms, Haley led Peyton to the desk chair. While Haley tried to talk, Peyton was in too much pain to understand.

Peyton moaned as she settled back into her chair. It felt like her insides were being pulled out through her nose. Curling her legs up to her chest took a bit of the pain away. But it still hurt. A few tears streamed down her cheeks and as bit her lip to keep from screaming. Somehow she managed to moan, "Call Luke."

"I will," Haley said quickly, grabbing her phone out of her pocket. "But I'm calling 9-1-1 first."

Unable to protest, Peyton just gathered her knees to her chest. She just wanted the pain to go away.

________________________________________________________________________

The pounding pain in his head was going away, at least for now. Stepping out of the building where he'd spent the last -- he glanced at his watch and groaned -- ten hours, Lucas Scott soaked in the late afternoon sunlight. He reveled in the knowledge that he was done. At least for today. Just one more day until he could go home . . .

As the warm breeze brushed against his cheek, he closed his eyes for a second and took a deep breath. With each step he took away from that office, his lungs became a little less constricted, despite the thick, smog-filled air. Finally, he was free.

He nearly ran down the steps and onto the sidewalk, feeling the overwhelming need to escape. Lucas rubbed his right hand through his short hair and heaved a long-suffering sigh.

He heard Dixon's voice echo in his mind, "_What if Peyton dies? How's that for dramatic irony_."

Lucas breathed in deeply, hoping to calm his frayed nerves. Looking at the buildings around him, but not really paying attention to what he saw, Lucas was struck by an overwhelming desire to run back to Tree Hill as quickly as possible. To get back to normalcy. To make sure Peyton was all right.

Running his palm across his scruffy chin, he sheepishly realized that he might miss Peyton a little more than he wanted to admit. The corners of his lips turned up into a slight smile when he realized that this was the first time they'd been separated for more than a few hours since they'd gotten back together, and it was killing him. He cracked a smile as he pictured how she would make fun of him for being as sappy as a girl.

Whatever his underlying motivation, hopping the first plane back to North Carolina and blowing off this stupid movie sounded pretty appealing right now. Intellectually, he knew that he had to honor his commitments, and, deep down, he wanted to see his book made into a movie. But, after days like today, he wanted to throw in the towel and forget this movie -- forget Julian -- forever. He was willing to bet that Julian had a hand in at least some of Dixon's antics today.

As he continued to walk down the few blocks to his hotel at a brisk pace, he felt a scowl settle over his features. Unfortunately, forgetting the movie just wasn't an option. Like an idiot, he had signed the contract giving Julian the rights to make a movie based on his book, the book that told Lucas's life story, his personal tragedies and triumphs. He had no doubt that Julian would make the movie whether Lucas was involved or not. Peyton had been right. He needed some level of control, so he had to stick with the movie, no matter what Julian's motivations were.

Peyton. She would make him realize that this movie insanity was all worthwhile. Just the sound of her voice would be enough to tide him over, at least for tonight. He reached into his pocket and felt his phone. Although he would have welcomed the distraction of an incoming call or text, he had left his phone off all day.

Glancing at his watch, he groaned. 6:19. Even with the three hour time difference, Lucas knew it was too early to hope that Peyton was in bed already, clad only in one of his t-shirts. He could almost see her lying against his pillow, her hair pulled up and tied in a loose bun, with several stray tendrils peeking out from either side, as she prepared to sleep. He could nearly imagine how her lips slightly parted, waiting for him to kiss her goodnight.

Moistening his suddenly dry lips, he pulled his phone out of his pocket. When he turned it on, it immediately chimed, indicating that he had new voicemail messages. It chimed again, with a deeper bell, alerting him that he had unread texts.

As he continued walking toward his hotel, he scrolled through the three new texts. The first two were both from Skills, one before practice and one after practice, keeping him updated on the team.

Lucas closed his eyes and groaned at the terrible images that Dixon had created in his mind when he thought about Skills. "Damn Dixon," he muttered.

Opening his eyes, he gazed at the third missed text. A grin played across his lips as he realized it was from Peyton, sent this morning, probably as soon as she woke up. It was short, but sweet, reaffirming her love for him.

With a goofy grin, he quickly sent a return message, telling her that he loved her, too.

Waiting a few seconds, he was surprised that she didn't reply. Peyton's phone was always on, always within reach. Even though he pictured her lying in bed, he didn't expect Peyton to be asleep. Not yet. Certainly not at a little after 9 pm.

A little worried, he dialed her number. One ring. Two rings. Three rings. Four rings. Voicemail. "You've reached Peyton Sawyer. Leave a message." Beep.

"Hey, Peyton, you asleep already?" He was glad everyone else on the sidewalk seemed to be rushing somewhere. No one had time to eavesdrop on his conversation. Still, he dropped his voice. "I miss you." His voice became more breathy. "If you by any chance happen to be lying in bed, wearing nothing but --"

Mid-sentence, he was interrupted by an incoming call. With a smile, he abruptly ended the message, assuming that it was Peyton calling him back.

Without bothering to check the caller-id because he was so sure it was Peyton, he answered the phone, "Hey, beautiful."

After a short pause, a familiar male voice came across the came through. "Is there something you're not telling me, Luke?"

Scrunching his eyes, wondering why Peyton suddenly sounded like Nathan, Lucas only responded, "Huh?"

Nathan laughed, but the laugh wasn't mirthful. "Was I interrupting something?" The humor seemed almost forced.

"Nate?" Lucas asked, voice laced with surprise. "You're not . . . Peyton."

Instead of cracking a joke, Nathan said nothing except an almost emotionless, "Sorry, man." He heaved a sigh that Lucas heard even through the distance that separated them.

"Is everything all right?" Lucas couldn't shake a sense of foreboding that had plagued him ever since Peyton hadn't immediately returned his text a few minutes ago. His heart raced, so he picked up his pace, trying to keep his emotions in check.

Cautiously, Nathan asked, "Have you checked your voicemail today?" It seemed like Nathan was trying to tread dangerously around whatever he had called to tell Lucas.

Lucas's tone became guarded when he answered, "No, I just turned my phone on a second ago. Why?"

"We've been trying to call you. I'm not sure how to say this, Luke . . ."

"Say what?" His mind frantically started racing to various scenarios, each worse than the last. "Is something wrong with Haley? Or Jamie?" His voice grew a bit louder and he could sense that others on the street were starting to look at him.

"No, Luke, they're fine." Almost as if he forgot he was talking out loud, Nathan muttered, "Haley's so much better at this than I am. God, I'm not even sure how to say --"

"-- Just say it already."

Then, Nathan said the two worst words that Lucas could possibly hear. "It's Peyton."

Those two words tore his heart out of his chest. "No!" he exclaimed, the words that came after were nothing more than a tortured scream. If people on the street weren't staring at him before, they certainly were now. But he didn't care. Not believing what he heard, Lucas searched for some clarification. "Is she --?"

"-- She's pretty sick."

"She's sick?" came his agonized cry, half relieved, half terrified. If she was sick, maybe that meant she was still alive. Not wanting to mention the dreaded "d" word, he merely said, "What happened? Where is she?"

"The hospital." Anticipating his next question, Nathan continued, "We haven't heard much. No one has been able to see her yet --"

Almost shouting, Lucas stammered, "-- Wh-What happened?" Lucas felt like his legs could no longer hold his weight; he collapsed against the nearest wall, burying his face in his hand. It felt like his head was disconnected from his body. Almost like it was all a dream.

"The details are a little hazy, Luke. I wasn't there." Without waiting for Lucas to answer, Nathan continued, "All I know is that Hales went to Tric to show Peyton a new song maybe an hour ago. I'm not really sure what happened, but Haley said Peyton was doubled over in pain."

"Oh, god, Peyton," Lucas murmured.

"Haley called an ambulance. They took her to the hospital --"

Lucas felt the air leaving his lungs. "-- Is she okay?"

After a short pause, Nathan admitted, "We haven't heard much. The doctors asked us if she has been sick, but nothing else."

"She hasn't been sick," he nearly whispered, not even caring if Nathan heard him. The world felt like it was crashing around him.

Nathan's voice cracked with emotion when he said, "Haley and Brooke are still at the hospital waiting. The doctors haven't told us --"

"-- She's still there . . . at the hospital?" Even with all the questions running through Lucas's mind, he could barely put the thoughts into coherent words.

"Yeah."

"God, she hates hospitals," his voice was a pained moan. "I should be with her. Is she awake? Can I talk to her?"

"I'm not sure; I left the hospital a while ago to pick Jamie up from his play date. I'm sorry, Luke, I only know as much as Haley told me a few minutes ago. Brooke talked to her dad; he's on his way here. Maybe he'll be able to get some information. This patient privacy stuff is crap."

Voice shaking, Lucas declared, "I . . . I have to see her. I have to come home." On unstable legs, Lucas hoisted himself up and staggered down the last block toward his hotel.

"We thought so. There's a plane leaving LAX for Tree Hill at 9:00 tonight, your time. Brooke took care of booking --"

Lucas wanted to scream. "-- 9:00? That's three hours." His voice grew progressively louder as his feet traveled even faster. "How am I supposed to wait three hours to get on a plane for three more hours?"

"I'm so sorry, Luke. I wish . . . I'll text you the flight information," was all Nathan said, his voice breaking. "If it was Haley, I don't know what I'd do."

Lucas stared up at the sky for a moment. Heaving a soul-shattering sigh, he managed to whisper, "I know. Thanks, Nate." Before waiting for a response, Lucas ended the call as he stepped into the hotel's elevator.

After he hung up the phone with Nathan, Lucas immediately called his voicemail. He cringed when he heard the computerized voice say, "You have seven new messages."

Then Haley's frantic recorded voice came through the earpiece. "Lucas, I'm . . . I'm at Tric with Peyton." He heard faint moaning in the background. "Something's wrong. I called an ambulance, and we're going to the hospital." The moaning in the background became more defined, and he could make out Peyton's voice saying something. His heart broke as he felt the pain in her words. After a moment, Haley said, "She wants to tell you something."

After a short pause, Peyton's strained voice replaced Haley's. "Lucas," she said softly, "I love you."

"I love you, too," he whispered, even though he knew she couldn't hear him. "Damn you, Dixon!" He slammed his fist into the elevator wall. "What if Peyton dies?"

He knew the answer. It was simple. If Peyton died, he would die, too.

To be Continued


	3. Raven's Cry 3

Peyton didn't want to die. She bit her lip against the strong pain that radiated from her belly button to her hip. Even through the pain, she was sure of one thing: she wasn't going to die. Not tonight.

As soon as the ambulance pulled into Tree Hill Memorial Hospital, they EMTs rushed her stretcher through the emergency doors and into a trauma room on the left side of the hallway.

Peyton barely registered what was going on around her. Commotion, poking and prodding, pain. Too much pain. Quickly, a nurse in pink scrubs shoved IV tubes into her hand and arm. Other nurses worked to attach monitors all over her body.

Trying to ignore the shooting pains, she stared into the light above her. The light seemed to interplay with the solid blues and stark whites of the walls and ceiling, creating a blur around her. Doctors in blue scrub and white coats worked together with nurses in white scrubs to move her from the stretcher to a gurney. One of the monitor leads came loose as the group moved her to the gurney. The machine's angry beeping protest drowned out the voices that had melded together in an annoying buzz. She closed her eyes, trying to ease the pain, picturing happier moments.

"Peyton?" a nurse's high-pitched voice broke through her haze.

Peyton's eyes sprung open. She couldn't tell which person the voice belonged to, but she did see a needle. A large needle.

"Peyton, can you hear me?"

She merely nodded in response, still not sure who was talking to her. Her eyes were fixed on the needle as she wondered what the doctor planned to do to her.

"Good, good." The nurse laid a hand on Peyton's arm and leaned down so she was almost eye level. "Look at me, Peyton."

Peyton tore her eyes away from the needle and forced herself to look at the young nurse who stood in front of her. The nurse was tall and young, probably just a few years older than Peyton, with her brown hair cut in a short, stylish style, almost like Brooke's. .

"Okay, good. I'm Mary and I'm going to ask you a few questions --"

"-- Lucas?" Peyton croaked.

The nurse scrunched her face in confusion. "Sorry?"

"My fiancé." Peyton grabbed the nurse's arm. "Did anyone call Lucas?"

Mary looked at another nurse, who shook his head. "I'm sorry, Peyton. Your friends are in the waiting room trying to contact him, but he hasn't answered."

"Oh," she said softly. Peyton closed her eyes and sighed. Of all days for Lucas not to answer his phone . . . But maybe it was better this way; perhaps he wouldn't worry as much if they could tell him what was wrong with her.

Peyton felt Mary's hand squeeze her shoulder for reassurance. "I'm sure they'll get in touch with him soon. But, right now, we have to ask you some questions before we proceed. You're twenty-two years old?"

Peyton merely nodded in response.

The nurse wrote something on the chart in her hand. "Do you smoke?"

"No." Her heart raced as the various doctors and nurses raced around her, fiddling with monitors, and wielding scary-looking instruments of torture.

Mary jarred Peyton's attention back to their conversation when she said, "How long have you had this pain?"

"It started --" Peyton squirmed when she saw a doctor stick needle into her IV tube and draw several vials of blood. "-- today. This afternoon. At first it was dull, like my stomach was growling, and then it got worse and kept getting worse."

"Have you had any nausea?"

Closing her eyes, Peyton said, in a soft voice, "Yes." She added, "I'm nauseous now."

"Loss of appetite?"

Peyton cringed as a young doctor palpitated her abdomen with cold fingers. "Yes. I haven't had anything to eat all day."

"Vomiting?"

"No." As an afterthought, she added, "Not like I've eaten anything to throw up today anyway."

Mary made a few more marks on Peyton's chart. "Have you ever had pain like this before?"

"No, never." Peyton looked warily at a doctor who approached her stomach, armed with a stethoscope that was probably just as cold as her fingers.

"Now I'm going to ask you some questions about your family." Before Peyton could interrupt, Mary began, "Do you have any family history of diabetes?"

Peyton's mind swirled, unsure of how to respond. "I don't . . . think so?"

"Digestive disease?"

"I don't . . . know." Peyton managed to add, "I'm adopted."

"Oh! I'm so sorry." Mary did look genuinely apologetic.

Peyton tried to smile. "All I know about my birth parents is that my birth mom died of breast cancer."

"It's okay, Peyton," the nurse said softly. "You're doing great." Mary flashed a smile. "Now I'm going to ask some personal questions. Are you sexually active?"

Peyton bit her lower lip and said, "Yes." She felt compelled to add, "With my fiancé." She knew she shouldn't feel self conscious, but for some reason, she did. Sometimes she still thought of herself as a guilty, hormonal teenager.

"Okay." Mary smiled in a disarming way that made Peyton feel at least a little better about herself. Trying to make small talk she added, "Lucas, right?"

"Yeah." The corners of her lips turned into a soft smile as she whispered, "Lucas Scott."

"Oh, the coach of the Ravens, right?"

Peyton nodded.

Mary smiled in response, but her words cut to the chase. "Have you ever been pregnant or suffered a miscarriage or ectopic pregnancy?"

"No." Peyton didn't like the sound of those words. They were far too specific for her tastes. Were they trying to tell her something?

"Okay, Peyton, we're going to run some tests on your blood so the doctors can find out what's wrong. We also want to send you for an abdominal CT, but first we need to know, are you pregnant now?"

Peyton's immediate response was a definite, "No." But then as she thought about it, and her resolve became far less strong. "Probably not? I don't . . . think so."

The nurse flashed a small smile. "How 'bout we run a test just to be sure. Then the doctors will decide an appropriate course of treatment."

"What's wrong with me?"

"We're not sure yet, but we'll know more after we run the tests." The doctors and other nurses filed out of the room. Mary added, "Katherine will be back in a few minutes with some pain killers. They should make you feel a bit better."

Peyton nodded; it was clear that everyone in the room knew a lot more than they were letting on. She hated not knowing what was happening with her body. She felt so . . . helpless.

________________________________________________________________________

He felt so . . . helpless. Being so far away from Peyton and having no idea what was happening to her was killing him. Lucas seethed with anger at Julian for sending him here, an entire country away, when Peyton needed him.

He barely heard the rest of the messages as they played. He only registered that they were from Haley. Brooke. Haley. Brooke. Nathan. Haley. Even though he didn't listen to every word, he knew that each message had the same theme: Peyton, his Peyton, was sick. They didn't know much, except the doctors were still working on her.

Needing to do something to occupy his mind, he began throwing his belongings into his suitcase haphazardly. He couldn't believe that no one had heard anything about Peyton yet. An hour later, and the doctors were still working on her?

His phone beeped, indicating an incoming text. From Nathan. With his outbound flight details.

A quick gaze at the clock told him that he still had just under three hours until his flight left. He ran a hand through his short hair and sighed. Still two hours until he had to be at the airport to pass through security. That meant he still had more than six hours until he could be back in Tree Hill. Seven hours until he could be at the hospital with Peyton.

Seven hours. An eternity.

He grabbed his bag and left the hotel room. As he checked out, he barely spoke to the woman at the front desk until the cheery young woman said, with a large smile, "I see you're checking out early. Did you enjoy your stay, sir?"

Lucas stared at the woman behind the counter through squinted eyes. It was like something snapped inside him as he growled, getting progressively louder, "Did I enjoy my stay? Did I enjoy my stay? Are you serious?"

The woman's grin soured immediately. "I'm sorry?"

Lucas continued his rant, not caring who was staring at him. "I hate this hotel. I hate this city. Some of the worst moments in my life have happened here." His arms thrust in front of him, swinging madly from side to side.

"Is there anything we could have done to make your stay more enjoyable?" The woman was still trying to be cheery, but she was obviously rattled.

"You could fly me home on a private jet," he growled.

The woman at the desk just smiled at him, but said nothing.

Lucas knew he was unfair; it wasn't this woman's fault. He knew his words were probably incoherent, but he couldn't help himself. "It's this damned city. Nothing good ever happens here."

"I'm sorry?" The woman at the counter took a step back.

Lucas knew other people in the lobby turned to look at him as he paced like a wild animal, but he didn't care. His voice grew louder and more frantic. "My fiancée is in the emergency room, and I'm three hours away from her. For all I know, she might be dying as we speak." He felt a hand on his shoulder and a strong arm pull him away from the counter.

"Son? Are you okay?" said a gravelly voice.

Lucas looked at the hand on his shoulder, and the man's uniform registered in Lucas's mind. "I'm sorry, officer. It's just . . ." Lucas gallantly fought back the tears that threatened to fall. His voice cracked when he said, "I can't lose her. She's my life."

"Deep breaths." The tall police officer guided Lucas to a sofa in the lobby. "Sit."

Lucas sat heavily on the sofa and stared blankly at the ornate lobby before him. He tried to take a few deep breaths, but he still felt like he wanted to jump out of his skin. Wordlessly, he put his elbows on his knees and gathered his face in his hands.

Then, he felt the officer's hand on his shoulder. In a soft voice, the man said, "What's her name?"

Lucas looked up and met the officer's kind, brown eyes. With a cracking voice, Lucas managed to say, "Peyton."

"Peyton," the officer drawled. "That's a pretty name."

Lucas nodded mutely. He pulled out his phone showed the officer his most recent album with pictures of her. With a soft smile, he said, wistfully, "She's a pretty girl."

The officer said merely, "Yes, she is." He didn't say anything else, leaving Lucas alone with his thoughts as he flipped through pictures of Peyton.

After a moment, Lucas broke the silence by saying, "What if she dies before I get there?"

The officer clapped Lucas on the shoulder and declared, "She won't."

"How do you know?" Lucas cocked his head and squinted at the officer.

The officer smiled. "Faith."

"I have to get to her," Lucas whispered. He tried to stand, but it didn't seem like his legs could hold his weight. "I can't wait for three hours to get on a plane. What am I going to do?"

"You don't want to wait here." The officer steadied Lucas and helped him to the hotel door. "Let's get you to the airport; you might find a standby flight."

Lucas nodded mutely and allowed the officer to help guide him into a waiting cab. Before the cab's door closed, Lucas managed to say, "I don't think I got your name."

The officer just smiled and said, "Keith." Before Lucas could say anything, he added, "Good luck, son."

Lucas sat back in the seat and said, before the door closed, "Thank you."


	4. Raven's Cry 4

"Thank you," Peyton said softly as she took a cup of water from a nurse's hand. She took a quick sip and put the cup down on the movable table next to the gurney. It had only been a few minutes since the doctors had left her room, but Peyton was already feeling trapped. The pain hadn't really subsided, and she wanted to do something, anything, to make it go away.

As if she was reading Peyton's mind, the older nurse with graying hair held up an IV bag and said, "Fentanyl." With a knowing smile, she added, "This should help with the pain." Quickly, Katherine removed the saline drip and hooked the medicine bag to Peyton's IV.

Peyton watched drops of Fentanyl fall down her IV tube and enter her hand. Skeptically, she said, "I hope so."

Checking the IV a final time, Katherine continued. "Can I get you anything else, dear?"

Peyton sat back on the gurney and signed. "Do you know if anyone has been able to reach Lucas?"

Katherine rolled a machine from the corner of the room next to Peyton's bed, "I'm sorry; I'm not sure. I'll check at the front desk for you as soon as I'm done checking your vitals here."

Peyton closed her eyes and bit her lower lip against the pain that was shooting through her abdomen. Exhaling a deep breath, she whispered, "Please."

Katherine seemed to notice the way Peyton cringed and looked a bit worried. Saying nothing, she pulled the blood pressure cuff out of the portable machine in the corner of the room and warmed her stethoscope. As she inflated the blood pressure cuff around Peyton's right arm, she tried to make small talk. "So Lucas is your fiancé?"

"Yeah." She pushed some stray tendrils of hair out of her face with her left hand. With a wistful smile, she added, "He's in LA for work, so I know he'll be freaking out when someone tells him I'm here."

Katherine smiled. "He sounds like he really loves you."

With a smile, Peyton said, simply, "He does." Sighing, she added, "I guess we're both a little paranoid that our lives have been too perfect for the last few months. Something like this was bound to happen." She tried to forget all of the struggles that they had gone through to get together, stay together and get back together. She tried to forget the three wasted years that haunted her every day. He was hers now, and nothing was going to drive them apart. But she expected the world to cave in around her. Just like it was right now.

"Oh, honey, don't think like that."

Rolling her eyes, Peyton said, "We've been through so much; it's almost routine to have something terrible happen." While she rubbed her temples, she said, "I wish I could call him. Can I use my cell?"

"Sorry, dear, we can't have cell phones back here because of all the equipment and the threat of interference. But as soon as I'm done here, I'll see what I can do. We might be able to work something out to get a phone in here."

Peyton breathed a sigh of relief. "Thanks. I think Luke will feel better if he can talk to me." She didn't add that she would feel better if she heard his voice, too. Closing her eyes, she tried to picture Lucas's smiling face, telling her that everything would be okay. With a small smile, Peyton said, "I think talking to me will help keep him sane."

"We'll see what we can do." Katherine smiled at Peyton, but her expression soured when she looked at the machine readout. She muttered, "90/62, 108. Not good."

"What does that mean?" Peyton rubbed the painful area in her side and tried to ease some of her pain. No success. "Of all days for Lucas to be in --"

"-- Does it hurt right there?" Katherine's voice was soft, yet firm, as she pointed to the spot Peyton was rubbing.

Peyton's thoughts drifted from Lucas to her current situation. "Yeah. It's worst here."

Biting her lip, Katherine put a thermometer in Peyton's ear. "Is the Fentanyl helping?"

"Not really," Peyton admitted. Truthfully, since the rest of the doctors and nurses had left the room, the pain had become more intense, more focused. She shifted to her right side and tried to pull her knees to her chest. "Can you get me another blanket? I'm freezing."

The thermometer beeped, and the nurse scowled as she gazed at the temperature reading. "I'm going to get Dr. Brown."

Peyton's pulse quickened. "Why? What's wrong?"

"Your fever has gone up pretty quickly." Katherine tried to keep her voice calm, but Peyton could sense that she was hiding something. "You had a low grade fever when you came in, but now you're at 38.5. The doctor might want to get you started on antibiotics."

"What does that mean?" From the way the tone of the nurse's voice changed, Peyton had a feeling that it wasn't good.

"Dr. Brown needs to check your white blood cell count to be sure, but with numbers like this, you probably have an infection." The nurse was notably less chipper as she walked toward the door.

"Wait. I need to know. What's wrong with me? What's happening?"

Katherine stopped in her tracks and looked at Peyton with an unreadable expression on her face. It was bad. It had to be bad. "I need to get Dr. --"

Peyton grabbed her knees and pulled them closer to her chest. In a soft voice, she said, "-- This is worse than just an infection, isn't it? What aren't you telling me?"

With a pained look on her face, the nurse said, "I'll be right back with the doctor."

When the nurse was gone, Peyton finally let herself cry.

______________________________________________________________________________

Unwilling to let himself cry, Lucas fought the tears that lingered at the back of his eyes. As the cab sped toward LAX, he grabbed his phone and dialed Haley's number. The phone rang once. Twice. Three times. Then, she answered.

"Lucas!" Her voice was frantic. "We've been trying --"

Lucas didn't want to wait for Haley's drawn out explanation. "-- How is she? " His voice cracked as he added, "I'm dying here, Hales." He closed his eyes, waiting for her response.

He could hear Haley take a deep breath. Then her words came out as a very fast stream of consciousness. "I know you are; I wish I knew more, but we're still waiting. I think they were talking about taking her back for some tests a while ago, but we haven't heard anything since. No one's been able to see her yet because they're working on her. Brooke just talked to her dad, and he said he'd be here in about twenty minutes."

Running a hand through his hair, he sighed deeply. Haley didn't know much more than he knew already. "Can I talk to someone? A doctor, a nurse, anyone?"

"Okay," she answered. "We'll try." Her voice was slightly muffled when she said, "Brooke, can you see if someone at the desk will talk to Lucas?"

He couldn't quite make out Brooke's response, but he did hear her sniffle back her tears.

After one of the longest moments of his life, Lucas heard Haley's voice again. "Brooke Davis, I don't even want to ask. Okay, Lucas, this is Nurse Smith. She's one of Peyton's nurses."

An unfamiliar voice took Haley's place. "Lucas?"

The cab pulled into an entrance for LAX, but it didn't even register with Lucas. "Yes."

"I'm Katherine Smith, one of Peyton's nurses."

His breath caught in his chest. His words came out together as he tried to process the thought that he was really talking to someone who had just seen Peyton. "How is she? What's wrong? Can I talk to her?"

"She was asking about you," Nurse Smith said in a kind, motherly tone.

Lips curling into a slight smile, he let out a long breath. "She's awake? Thank god."

"Yes, she's in a lot of pain, but she's completely conscious."

"What's wrong with her?" Lucas played with the edge of the seat, unable to sit still.

"We haven't gotten the results back from her blood work, and we haven't been able to do a CT, so we're not positive."

"But you have an idea." Lucas felt his heart sinking; the nurse's evasiveness was not a good sign.

The nurse avoided his question. "She wants to talk to you."

Lucas recognized the avoidance tactics, but he was too excited at the prospect of talking to Peyton to care. "She does? Can I talk to her?"

After a short pause, Katherine said, "I think I know a way to make it happen. Let me transfer you to another line."

As he waited for the nurse to come back, the cab pulled up to the entrance nearest to his gate. He swiped a credit card, grabbed his suitcase, and hopped out of the back seat. Waving to the cabbie, he found a bench near the door and sat down, waiting to hear Peyton's voice.

Almost as soon as he sat down, Peyton's familiar, but weak, voice came across the line. "Lucas?"

He let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. "Peyton, oh, god, Peyton." He ran his free hand through his hair. "It's so good to hear your voice. How are you?"

Chucking slightly, she said, voice slightly slurred, "Pretty good now that I have this Fentanyl."

Lucas cracked a small smile. "Really, I'm serious, Peyton. I'm going crazy here worrying about you."

Her voice softening to almost a cry, she said, simply, "I don't know what's wrong." He could hear her start to cry as she said, "My stomach. It hurts."

"It's okay," he tried to keep his voice calm, but he had a feeling she could sense his nervousness. "You're gonna be okay."

"I know," she declared. "I do feel better on the painkiller."

"Good, good. Has the doctor been in to talk to you?"

Almost on cue, he heard a deep voice say, "Peyton, we met before, but I'm Doctor Brown from general surgery."

"Surgery?" Lucas exclaimed, his pulse quickening. "Is that your doctor?"

Peyton didn't respond to him, but instead asked the doctor, "Can I keep my fiancé on the phone so he can hear this?" After a moment, she added, "He's out of town and is waiting for a flight back home."

"Okay," the doctor answered.

Lucas smiled, but didn't speak. He hung on the doctor's every word, praying that it would be that Peyton was fine and would be released that evening.

His stomach dropped when Dr. Brown said, "We got your bloodwork back, Peyton, and it's a little inconclusive."

Peyton's voice was steady, but Lucas could feel her tension as she said, "Oh, how so?"

"Well, as we feared, you have an infection. We'd like to start you on antibiotics, but we want to culture the infected area to give you an antibiotic specific to your bacteria."

Lucas closed his eyes and listened to Peyton's even breathing on the other side of the line. She took a deep breath and said, "Okay, how do you do that?"

"Well, normally, we'd do an abdominal CT to explore the source of the infection. From the location of the pain, there's a good chance that it's appendicitis."

"Appendicitis?" Lucas said softly. He knew it was something she would need surgery for, but it wasn't usually life threatening.

Before Lucas could be too happy about the news, Peyton asked, "But why aren't you doing the CT?"

Lucas took a deep breath. He wasn't sure if he wanted to hear the answer.

The doctor couched uncomfortably. Then he said, "Because your pregnancy test came back positive."

"Oh my god, Peyton, you're pregnant?" Lucas exclaimed. His heart soared. He'd always wanted to be a father, and since he and Peyton had gotten back together, the urge had only become stronger. "That's amazing."

Peyton's response was a little more subdued. "Oh, I see. But why do I think there's something you aren't telling me."

Lucas wasn't sure if he was hurt that Peyton didn't feel the same way about the baby is he did. Then, he realized why Peyton might not be too excited.

Lucas's enthusiasm was crushed when the doctor said, "I'm sorry, Peyton. We don't want to do the abdominal CT in case the pregnancy is viable." The doctor quickly added, "More likely than not, the pregnancy is viable, but there is the --"

"-- In case?" Peyton whispered. "What do you mean in case?"

Lucas wanted nothing more than to hold Peyton in his arms at this moment. Instead, he tried to speak words of comfort, but he had a feeling that he might be making the situation worse. "It's okay, Peyton. Everything's fine. He said the pregnancy is probably viable." He slouched on the bench, feeling utterly defeated.

"From the location of your pain, you probably have appendicitis, but there is a chance that the infection and the pain you feel are due to an ectopic pregnancy."

"No!" Peyton exclaimed. Lucas could hear her crying, and it broke his heart.

"Peyton, it's going to be okay."

"No, it's not, Lucas," she snapped. Then she added, "Oh, god, Luke, I'm sorry."

"It's okay. You're scared." He rubbed his eyes as he added, "I'm scared, too. Are there any tests they can do --"

"-- Can you do any tests to see which one I have?" she said frantically.

The doctor heaved an audible sigh. "We're worried about the infection. With the fever you have, you might be on the verge of the appendix of the ectopic pregnancy rupturing and spreading the infection into the cavity. So we could do an ultrasound, but we feel that an exploratory laparotomy is more appropriate in your case because time is of the essence."

"Surgery," Peyton said softly. "Is that the only option?"

"Unfortunately, yes. We are racing against the clock to prevent a rupture."

Lucas could hear Peyton's tears. "Are you okay, baby?"

Her weak response was completely honest. "I'm scared."

"I am, too."

She directed a question to the doctor. "What if it's an ectopic pregnancy? Is that like a . . . a miscarriage?"

"Don't think like that, Peyton," Lucas insisted. "It's not an ectopic pregnancy."

Before Peyton could respond to Lucas, the doctor said, "Yes, unfortunately, an ectopic pregnancy is not viable. But if the pregnancy is normal, the surgery should be safe for the baby and you should be able to have a normal pregnancy."

"See, Peyton, everything should be okay."

"That's not what he said, Luke." She took a deep breath and said, "I think you have to do the surgery."

The doctor said, "We have the OR reserved. We just have to get you prepped. I'll give you a minute alone with your fiancé. Your friends and family in the waiting room can see you for a minute, too."

"Peyton, it's going to be okay." He sighed. "We're due a break."

"But what if it's not?" Peyton sobbed. "We don't exactly have good luck."

He chuckled sardonically. "Even if it's not okay, we'll get through it. Hey, who else has more experience getting through stuff like this?"

"No one," she said with a slight laugh. Her voice sobered as she said, "What if I lose this baby? I've known about it for about two minutes, but I already want it so badly."

"I know. I feel the same way." Taking a chance, he added, "I've always wanted to have a baby with you. Ever since I first saw you, all legs and curls, I knew that you were the only woman I wanted to have a family with."

"What about --"

"-- Even when I was with Lindsay, I could never --"

"-- I love you, Lucas Scott." She effectively cut off any more discussion. "The nurses are standing at the door, glaring at me."

"Well, I guess we can't keep them waiting." His voice dropped considerably when he said, "I love you, too, Peyton Sawyer. I'll see you when you wake up."

"You'd better." She sniffled back more tears. "They're coming to get me now. God, I love you, Lucas."

"I love you, too, Peyton." As he hung up the phone, he closed his eyes and said a silent prayer that Peyton and his child would be all right.

To be Continued.


	5. Raven's Cry 5

_Author's note: Sorry for the long wait between posts and for how short this part is. I've been absolutely swamped at work and haven't had time to write._

As Peyton waited on a different bed in a different curtain-covered room, she said another silent prayer that her baby would be all right. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to imagine the child that grew within her. To daydream about the life she'd never known she wanted until it looked like it might be taken away.

"I see someone's rocking the dingy, gray hospital gown look." Brooke popped her head around the curtain surrounding Peyton's pre-op room wearing a smile Peyton could tell was forced. Even from across the room, she could see how red and swollen Brooke's eyes were, like she had been crying for hours.

"Yeah, I guess --" was all Peyton could manage to say before hurricane Brooke blew into the room and enveloped Peyton in a tight hug. She wanted to their banter with a snarky comment, but Brooke turned completely serious.

Brooke's voice cracked as she said, "You scared us, P. Sawyer."

"Sorry," Peyton answered weakly as she adjusted her blankets, avoiding eye contact. She heard the click-clack of heeled footsteps approaching her bed.

"Don't be sorry," declared Haley in a forceful tone. "It's not your fault. We're just happy to see you." Brooke moved to the side and let Haley hug Peyton.

"Thanks. You know, for everything." Peyton's eyes met Haley's as she flashed a small smile. "If you hadn't been there --"

"-- Don't think like that!" Brooke exclaimed, grabbing Peyton's hand. "Haley was there, and you're going to be fine."

Peyton took a deep breath and nodded. Looking into the faces of her two best friends, she let a few tears drop down her cheeks. "Am I?" Her voice was barely louder than a whisper.

Haley bit her lower lip and turned to Brooke, who looked like she was about to break. Haley grabbed Peyton's other hand and squeezed tightly. "You're going to be fine." Her voice wasn't quite as sure as she obviously intended.

"You can't know that." Peyton took a deep breath. "Did anyone tell you . . .?"

Brooke looked from Haley to Peyton with a frown. Running a hand through her hair, she said, "God, I don't know what to say. Do we congratulate --?"

"-- We talked to Lucas," Haley finished, squeezing Peyton's hand.

"How much did he tell you?"

"Everything."

Biting her lip, Peyton managed to say, "He's freaking out, isn't he?"

Haley cracked a small smile. "Little bit." Running her hand down Peyton's cheek, she continued, "You know Luke."

Brooke added, "It's just because he loves you." Winking, she continued, "But it's a little annoying, isn't it?"

Haley took her free hand and slapped at Brooke's shoulder. "Brooke!"

"Hey!" Brooke stared at Haley, open-mouthed. "That hurt."

Ignoring her friends, Peyton heaved a sigh and said, "I wish he was here."

Turning her attention away from Brooke, Haley said, "He should be on the plane by now. He was just about to board when he called us."

"It's still a long flight." Peyton pulled her hand free from Haley's grip and rubbed her stomach. Growing restless, she shifted in bed. "How long is this going to take?"

"The surgery?" Before Peyton could answer, Brooke continued, "I think the doctor said about an hour or so."

"That's not what I meant." Shifting to her other side, Peyton played with the IV tube sticking out of her hand. "I mean, with as long as I've been sitting here waiting for this surgery to start, they could have just done the ultrasound."

Scrunching her eyebrows, Haley said, "Yeah, it seems like they could have. Should have. How dare they leave you in the dark --"

"-- I just . . . want to know for sure, you know? I wish . . . I don't know."

Brooke tucked a stray lock of hair behind Peyton's ear. "You wish you could be happy that you're pregnant."

Closing her eyes, Peyton whispered, "It's sooner than either of us planned. But just thinking about this baby, I realized I want it so much."

Haley ran a hand down Peyton's arm as she said, "I know; that's how I felt with Jamie."

"God, I should be so happy, but I'm terrified of being happy." Peyton clumsily wiped the tears from her cheeks. "If I let myself be happy, I know I'll just get burned. Even if it isn't an ectopic pregnancy, even if the baby's fine, what if my appendix bursts? What if I lose the baby anyway?"

"Peyton, that's not gonna happen, I --"

Haley was interrupted when two orderlies popped around the curtain, and the woman said, "-- Peyton Sawyer?"

Brooke scowled, but said, "Great timing. Yeah, this is Peyton."

"I'm sorry, Peyton, but the OR is ready," said an orderly dressed in plain, white scrubs as he grabbed the foot of the bed. "We have orders to get you there quickly."

Addressing Haley and Brooke, the other orderly said, "You two can go back to the waiting room. It's just through the door to the right." Then, she grabbed the head of the bed and followed her partner.

Squeezing Peyton's hand, Brooke leaned down and whispered, "You'll be great."

"Thanks Brooke, Haley. When you see Lucas, tell him I love him."

Brooke shook her head. "You tell him that yourself."

Just as the orderlies wheeled Peyton's bed out of the pre-op room and into the hallway leading to the OR, a gruff, male voice exclaimed, "Wait!"

Peyton sat up in bed and looked behind her. "Daddy?" She motioned for the orderlies to stop moving the bed. "You're here."

Larry Sawyer approached the side of his daughter's bed. Cautiously, he stroked Peyton's cheek with his index finger. With a small smile, he said, "Of course I am, baby girl. Of course I am." When Peyton didn't answer, he added, "I love you."

Her lips turned into a small smile as she answered, "I love you, too."

The orderlies started the bed moving again, and Larry followed next to it, clutching his daughter's hand. "Lucas called me."

A little embarrassed, Peyton could only say, "Oh?"

"Honey, that boy loves you." Larry hadn't been too happy about everything that had happened between Lucas and Peyton over the last few years, but the wistful smile on his face told her that he had forgiven Lucas and was willing to give him a chance.

"Yeah, he really does."

"And whatever happens today, you guys will be okay."

They came to the doors to the OR, and Peyton whispered, "I hope so."

Larry leaned down and gave Peyton a soft kiss on her forehead. "You're going to be fine." Putting his hand against her stomach, he added, "You're both going to be fine."

As the orderlies wheeled her through the open doors, Peyton bit her lip and repeated, "I hope so."

To be Continued


	6. Raven's Cry 6

"I hope so," Lucas said with a wistful smile as he stared blankly across the small crowd of people already lining up near the gate. Falling silent again, he closed his eyes and ran a trembling hand across his face.

"Really, Luke, she's going to be fine," Nathan's strong voice came through the phone, reassuring his brother for what seemed like the fiftieth time. "Haley said Peyton looked pretty good before the orderlies wheeled her in for surgery."

"I guess that's good, right?" Lucas took his iPod out of his pocket and scrolled through the menu until he found the playlist that Peyton had made for him before he left that morning. Even though he had listened to all of the songs at least twice during his first flight, he would listen to it on repeat for the rest of his flight. The lyrics to each song comforted him, each word reminding him of Peyton in some small way.

"Hales and Brooke --"

"-- I should have been with her," Lucas snapped, raising his free hand to his temple and dropping the iPod in the process. Then, he heaved a heavy sigh. "I mean, I'm glad Haley and Brooke were there, but . . . I should have been there to hold her hand, if nothing else."

"Lucas --"

"-- I should be there now, waiting for her. I should not be stuck in some god forsaken airport in the middle of nowhere."

"Hey, it's not your fault." Nathan was sympathetic yet forceful when he said, "Stop blaming yourself."

Lucas only grunted in response.

"And you'll be here soon. You're almost home."

"Am I really? I still have a whole plane ride to go."

"I'm sorry we couldn't get you a direct flight, but Birmingham, Alabama is a lot closer than L.A."

With a snort, Lucas answered, "But it's still not Tree Hill. But, you know, it's fitting. This has been the worst flight -- the worst night -- of my life."

"I know, man."

"I can't even close my eyes, Nate." Lucas's voice cracked as he said, "I see her in so much pain, but I can't get to her. I can't save her."

"You're not Superman, Luke."

"Maybe I should be." Almost afraid to hear the answer, Lucas whispered, "Have you heard anything yet?"

"Not yet. Nothing more than I heard ten seconds ago, the last time you asked." Without giving Lucas a chance to reply, Nathan continued, "The surgery was supposed to be pretty short --"

"-- An hour, right?"

"Yeah, about an hour. So we should be hearing something soon."

"We should have heard something already," Lucas half growled. Glancing at his watch, he said, "It's been at least four hours since I left LA. No one's heard anything? How is that possible?"

"She didn't go into surgery until a while after you were on the plane. Even then, we have no idea when they actually started. And remember, no news is good news."

Sighing, Lucas said, "I guess. But why did it take them so long?" Lucas wanted to throw something or rip something to shreds. "I thought she went back for surgery right after we hung up."

"I don't know," Nathan admitted.

"The doctors were in such a rush. I mean, they couldn't even wait to do an ultrasound to see if our baby . . ." Lucas leaned back against the hard airport lobby chair and groaned. With an air of frustration, he muttered, "Why the hell is every chair in this airport so damned uncomfortable?"

Nathan didn't answer Lucas's rhetorical question. Instead, he asked, "How long is your layover?"

"Twenty minutes." Lucas gazed up at a video monitor to his right and let out a half-laugh. "It looks like the flight's on time; I'm supposed to board pretty soon. But who knows if we'll actually leave on time?"

"You will. And Birmingham to Tree Hill's a really quick flight."

Shifting positions in the chair, Lucas muttered, "Not quick enough."

"It's less than an hour. Actually, I should start heading to the airport so I'm there to pick you up when you land."

"You're picking me up? What about Jamie?" Unable to sit still any longer, Lucas stood and drifted toward the gate, not hiding his eagerness to board.

Voice laced with frustration, Nathan answered, "My mom finally got home a few minutes ago."

Lucas couldn't help but laugh. "Just now? It's pretty late. Was she with --"

"-- Don't even." His voice short, Nathan added, "It's not funny."

With a sigh, Lucas said, "Believe me, I wasn't laughing."

"I know." Nathan's voice dropped.

"If it makes you feel better, this director I met with today wants Skills to be gay."

"Really?" Nathan exclaimed with a laugh. "That's awesome. I like him already. Pick him."

Lucas coughed. "He's an ass. Let's just say he wants Skills to have a lover."

"Oh yeah?"

"You or me."

"Oh," was Nathan's unenthusiastic reply. "Maybe not."

"_Flight 245 to Tree Hill, North Carolina is now boarding."_

"That's you?"

"Yeah." Untangling his headphones, Lucas looked up at the arrival and departure list. "Seems like we're on time, at least."

"If I leave now, I think I'll have enough time to stop by the hospital before I go to the airport."

Sighing, Lucas said, "Thanks, Nate." He drifted to the back of the short line that had formed at the gate.

"See you soon, Luke. I'll be by the baggage claim." Just before they hung up, Nathan added, "And don't worry. She'll be fine."

Handing his ticket to the attendant before he boarded the plane, Lucas snapped his phone closed. This last leg of his trip might just prove to be the longest hour of his life.

As he made his way to the waiting plane, his phone rang. As he glanced at the unfamiliar number, his heart nearly stopped. Even before he answered, he knew it had to be about Peyton.

Taking a deep breath, he answered the phone before the second ring. "Hello?"

"Lucas!" Larry Sawyer's words ran together as he drawled, "She's out of surgery."

"Thank god," Lucas breathed. He leaned against the windowed walls of the jetway, feeling the pressure dissipate from his chest. "How is she? How's the baby?"

"We don't know yet. I guess they just finished the surgery a few minutes ago and they're taking her to post-anesthetic recovery now. The surgeon's coming out here to talk to us in a few minutes."

Lucas's chest clenched with fear again because he knew that they were far from out of the woods. And, even worse, he would probably have to spend the entire flight not knowing. "Who did you talk to?"

"Just the lady at the desk." Larry took a deep breath. "Lucas, I know how hard this is for you. When Anna . . ." His voice shook as he trailed off. But it was stronger when he declared, "No, I don't want to compare this. Peyton's going to be fine."

Exhaling loudly, Lucas managed to say, "She's going to be fine." As he watched the final passenger board the plane, he reluctantly said, "I have to get on the plane so it doesn't leave without me."

"I know it's hard, Lucas. But, remember, you'll see her awake when you get home."

At the door to the plane, Lucas stopped and said, "When you see her, make sure to tell her I love her, and I'll be home soon."

"Will do, son. Will do."

Snapping his phone closed, Lucas stepped onto the plane. He quickly found his seat on the small plane, and stowed away his overnight bag. Falling into his seat, he focused on his iPod, putting the earbuds in and cranking up the familiar music. As one of Peyton's favorite songs streamed, he found himself smiling for the first time that night.


	7. Raven's Cry 7

Peyton's lips curled into a smile as she heard strains of one of her favorite songs in the distance. She half-ran and half-danced through the quarter and eighth note shaped clouds as she tried to get closer to the source of the staccato melody.

She ran faster and faster as the music became louder and louder. Faster paced. More insistent. It was getting harder and harder to breathe. She heaved for breath as she tried to keep pace with the music. As she sprinted past, the clouds spiraled away into the darkness.

The noise became clearer, and she realized that it wasn't music at all. It was beeping. Loud, incessant beeping to the tune of . . . Three Blind Mice? The clouds were all gone. Darkness. Just darkness. And cold. So cold.

Her eyes twitched, wanting to open. Through her haze, she heard a woman say, "Her antibiotic's out. Hanging the next dose."

Rustling. Banging. And then the beeping stopped.

Why was it so cold? Peyton sighed softly as she realized that she was shivering. Her eyes fluttered, and she looked out into the unfamiliar room. She appeared to be on a bed. A bed surrounded by too many bright lights. Her eyes were open for a moment, but she snapped them shut again because the lights were almost blinding.

"Peyton?" The voice belonged to a woman. A woman she didn't know.

"Lucas?" Peyton croaked, through dry lips.

The same unknown woman seemed to ignore the question when she said, "How are you feeling?" The woman sounded happy. Too happy. Peyton already disliked her because she wasn't Lucas.

With a yawn, Peyton answered, "Sleepy." Her heavy eyelids remained closed, and she tried to drift back to that comfortable world of music and clouds. Trying to flip on her side and borrow into the pillow, Peyton cringed with the sharp pain that passed from her belly button to her right side. Gasping for breath, Peyton opened her eyes.

"Welcome back," said the too-cheery woman, dressed in dark blue scrubs and leaning right over Peyton's face.

"From where?" Peyton whispered, confusion filling her voice. She blinked a few times, her eyes still trying to adjust to the bright lights.

Placing a warm hand on Peyton's freezing arm, the older woman smiled kindly and answered, "You just had an operation, dear. Do you remember?"

With a frown, Peyton whispered, "Oh." It had seemed like just moments ago when the orderlies had wheeled her into the operating room. She remembered counting back from one hundred. It seemed like just a few seconds ago. And suddenly, she remembered. Everything.

With that same annoying smile, the nurse said, "You're in the post anesthesia recovery room. You came through the surgery very well."

Peyton knew that she wasn't the person who mattered. Her own health wasn't what she cared about. Peyton grabbed the nurse's arm and demanded, in a raspy, but insistent, voice, "My . . . my baby?"

The nurse's expression changed ever so slightly. Her smile didn't seem quite as genuine. Avoiding the question, the nurse said, "The doctors will be here in a few minutes to talk to you about the surgery."

"No! I need to know." Peyton's heart pounded in her chest. Gasping for air, she added, "Tell me about my baby."

Peyton's stomach dropped as she watched the nurse close her eyes and take a deep breath. In a monotone voice, the nurse said, "It's complicated."

"Complicated?" Her life was always complicated. From the look on the nurse's face, she knew it was bad news. "Tell me. I need to know about my baby." She looked around the room frantically, seeing unfamiliar monitors and instruments, but not much else. Taking a deep breath, she demanded, "Lucas? Where's Lucas?

Squeezing Peyton's arm, the nurse said, calmly, "Settle down, Peyton."

Almost hyperventilating, Peyton tried to sit up. Almost as soon as she started, she fell back against the bed. The pain was just too much. "I need Lucas." She had every faith that he would be able to help her. He would be able to find out about her baby. Their baby.

Stroking Peyton's arm, the nurse said, "You can have visitors as soon as the doctors clear you. I promise"

"I need Lucas." She was weak. Defeated. In a soft, scratchy voice, she added, "Now."

Almost like she was ignoring Peyton's demands, the nurse turned her attention to the monitors behind Peyton's head. In a placating, offhanded tone, the nurse said, "Soon, dear."

Taking a deep breath, Peyton tried to calm down. Soon. The doctors would be here soon. Peyton frowned, but didn't speak. As the haze cleared, she became more attuned to her surroundings. The one thing that really bothered her was an unfamiliar tube coming out of her nose. Without thinking, her hand came up to the tube and started to tug. As she tugged, she started to gag.

The nurse grabbed Peyton's hand and exclaimed, like she was talking to a child. "No! Peyton, don't pull."

Startled, Peyton merely blinked. As the nurse guided her hand back down to the bed, she started to shiver convulsively. Barely moving her lips, she said, "Cold."

Reaching up to pull two of the bright lamps surrounding the bed down toward Peyton, the nurse asked, "Is that better?"

Under the heated lamps, Peyton was still shivering, but it was considerably better than before. "A little," she admitted. "Can I have some water?"

With an apologetic frown, the nurse said, "I'm sorry, dear, you're still coming out of the anesthetic. I can get you a wet swab to wipe your mouth."

Sighing, Peyton just nodded. She was too tired -- and her mouth was too dry -- to fight.

After a moment, the nurse handed her a lollipop stick with a wet sponge-like thing on the end. Peyton stuck it in her mouth and was surprised that it had a lemony flavor. Before Peyton had time to consider the swab, the nurse thrust a laminated picture into Peyton's hand. "On a scale of 1 to 10, how much pain are you feeling?"

Peyton almost laughed as she gazed at the numbered smiley and frown faces on the card. Drawing a sharp breath, she wondered how numbers and poorly drawn faces could really capture the pain she felt. "Four?" she said to make the nurse happy. But four only described her pain if that half-frown with no tears meant numb, confused and terrified.

As the nurse made a mark on a paper inside a blue binder, Peyton heard footsteps in the hallway. Heavy footsteps, almost like the person was running. A small smile played across her face as she realized that those footsteps sounded quite familiar. She was right. A second later, the curtain surrounding her bed rustled, and Lucas appeared. He was slightly out of breath; his hair was mussed; his eyes were red and swollen and surrounded by dark circles. His eyes shone with terror and unshed tears.

"Luke," Peyton breathed, unwilling to talk louder for fear she was hallucinating. Maybe he felt the same way; he seemed almost unable -- or maybe unwilling -- to enter the room. Instead, he was frozen against the sterile blue curtain, several feet from the bed. Even so far away, she could tell by the way he chewed on his lower lip and wrung his hands in front of him that he was nervous and maybe even slightly guilty. "Lucas," she repeated, slightly louder. A few tears that she had been holding back tumbled down her cheeks.

As if her voice woke him from a trance, he exclaimed, "Peyton," and rushed to her bedside. Softly running his index finger down her cheek and brushing away her tears, he whispered, "Oh god, Peyton. Please don't cry."

"I'm so happy to see you."

A wide smile spread across his face. "God, you are so beautiful."

"You're not so bad yourself." Looking into his eyes, Peyton whispered, "Am I dreaming?" Groggily, she brought her hand up to cover his.

Clutching her hand, Lucas shook his head wordlessly, overcome by emotion. He tipped his head down so that their lips almost touched, but he snapped back quickly.

Peyton narrowed her eyes and stared at him. "What's wrong?"

She noticed his eyes drift to the tube coming out of her nose. Shaking his head, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I'm so sorry, baby," he whispered.

"For what? You have nothing --"

With those simple words, her strong fiancé nearly crumbled before her eyes. "-- For your pain." Then, he began to sputter, "These . . . tubes. God, all those monitors. It's just . . ."

Rolling her eyes, she downplayed the situation. "Lucas, it doesn't hurt that badly." She proved herself wrong, though, when she tried to shift to face him and a sharp, knife-like pain shot through her abdomen. Writhing in pain, she looked at the nurse, who was watching silently in the corner, and whispered through clenched teeth, "Ten."

The nurse sprung into action and appeared at Peyton's bedside. Ripping open a syringe, she asked, "Do you need painkillers?"

Peyton nodded, unable to speak. The pain rushed through her abdomen, making her feel like she was being sliced in half.

Lucas let the nurse take Peyton's hand away from him. He watched, his eyes wide with fear, as the nurse grabbed a syringe and injected a drug into the IV line in Peyton's hand.

After about two minutes, the medicine started to work. Her mind-numbing pain subsided, at least to a manageable level. So Peyton was able to breathe again. Noticing that the nurse had left her curtained room, she turned her attention to her fiance, who was almost cowering in the corner. "Lucas, baby?"

Running a trembling hand through his short hair, Lucas murmured, "God, Peyton. I am so sorry."

She rolled her eyes. "I already said --"

"-- No! I should have been here."

"You couldn't have changed anything."

"I could have tried," he declared.

Peyton sighed, closing her eyes to straighten her jumbled thoughts. Her mind was still a little clouded from the anesthetic. But she knew one thing. "No, Luke. You couldn't have. This was going to happen if you were here or if you were in L.A." Before he could jump in, she cracked a smile and added, "And you got back here in record time."

He snorted. "It felt like time was crawling." Inching closer to her bed, he added, "I wasn't sure if . . ." His voice trailed away as he reached her bed and bent down to kiss her.

She closed her eyes as his lips connected with hers. The kiss was tentative, but needy. Even though they had only been separated less than two days, it felt like they'd been apart for an eternity. Her heart melted as she realized that he was afraid to touch her face, afraid to run his fingers through her hair, probably because of all of the tubes and wires.

When the kiss broke, he pulled back, careful to avoid the tube coming out of her nose. Flashing a sheepish smile, he said, "I was afraid I'd never get to do that again."

Peyton smiled when she said, "I might make you do it forever."

He smiled, but didn't laugh. Instead, his expression turned somber and he seemed to be unable to look her in the eye.

Sighing, she said, "What's going on in that head of yours?"

He shrugged, with a half-smile. "You know me too well." He trailed a finger down her cheek.

"Luke . . ." Then she realized why he was so reluctant. "Did you . . . talk to the doctor?"

Although he didn't answer, the crestfallen look on his face was enough.

"Oh, god, Lucas." Her voice was barely louder than a whisper. "It's . . . not good, is it?"

Lucas shook his head. "The doctors -- and your dad -- thought it would be better if I told you." Taking a deep breath, he continued, "The surgery was . . . more complicated than they thought it would be."

As hard as she tried not to cry, Peyton still felt tears streaming down her cheeks. "I lost our baby, didn't I?" She felt so damned small lying on the uncomfortable bed in the unfamiliar makeshift room.

Sensing her need to be close to him, and disregarding her incisions and tubes, Lucas carefully climbed into bed with her. Lying on his side, nearly half of his body off the edge of the bed, Lucas wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his chest. His voice broke when he said, "I'm not sure what to say."

Almost unable to speak, barely holding back a flood of tears for the baby she hadn't even known about this morning. "Just tell me, Luke. What happened?"

She felt his hot breath against her ear as he said, "Baby, I'm not even sure I understand everything. The doctors said your condition was rare, maybe the only one they've ever seen."

Her voice shook, but she managed to say, "I'm a big girl, Lucas. I can take it."

With a crack in his voice, Lucas began, "When they opened you up, they found both appendicitis and --"

"-- An ectopic pregnancy," she finished. "So I lost the baby." Her words held no emotion. "They removed my appendix --" Tears streaked down her cheeks. "-- and my baby."

"I'm so sorry, Peyton." He kissed her temple and then her cheek. She could tell he was trying to be strong for her, but he was breaking inside. Almost as an afterthought, he managed to add, "The doctors said we'll be able to have --"

"-- Another baby? But I wanted *this* baby," she snapped.

"I know. I did, too," he admitted. Running a hand through her hair, he planted a soft kiss on her forehead. After a few moments spent in silence, Lucas added, voice barely louder than a whisper, "There's more. Peyton, the doctors found --"

"-- What? What else could they find? A tumor? A --"

He put his finger against her lips. "-- Another baby."

For a moment, she felt like her heart stopped. "Two dead babies?" Looking down, she whispered, "A tumor would have been better."

Grabbing her hand, he exclaimed, "No! Not two dead babies." His voice dropped and he sounded far less sure of himself when he said, "At least I don't . . . think so." He coughed and added, "The doctors said this is the rare part that none of them have seen before."

"Of course it is." It was all too much for her. "Are you sure I'm not dreaming? When I wake up, will this all go away?"

"I wish." Lucas ran a trembling hand across his face. "I'm so sorry, baby. But, you know, I think this is good news."

"How could this possibly be good news? We lost a *baby,* Lucas."

"I *know* that. But as bad as that is . . . we have another baby." His voice shook as he said, "We were supposed to have twins."

"Twins," she repeated. The word sounded foreign to her. "Lucas, twins?"

He nodded. "One was ectopic, but the other one . . . the doctors think that baby will be *fine.*"

"But how do they *know?*" She touched her stomach. "What if --"

"-- They don't know, Peyton," he admitted. "But they said they want to do an ultrasound tomorrow and run some tests."

"Oh," she said softly.

"And until the doctors find something wrong, I'm kind of happy about that." Before Peyton could say anything, he added, "And I am so happy that you're okay. God, Peyton, if anything had happened to you --"

"-- Nothing's going to happen to me." She laid her head against Lucas's shoulder.

Placing a kiss on the top of her head, he whispered, "I love you, Peyton Sawyer. I'm so sorry it took me so long to come to my senses."

"But you did."

"Why do you have so much faith in me when I haven't done anything to earn it?"

Peyton laughed and said, "You're always saving me, Luke. And even through this, I know you're the one who will save me."

"We'll get through this. I promise."

She closed her eyes, the stress and medications finally catching up with her. "Together," she whispered before she allowed herself to drift to sleep.

Peyton knew it would be a long road to recovery, full of tears and self-loathing. But she also knew that Lucas would be with her, every step of the way. They would grieve together for the baby they lost, but celebrate the baby they would have. Together.

The End

Medical Disclaimer: According to my doctor friend, having an ectopic pregnancy and appendicitis together is "not exactly common, but [she has] heard of it." Ectopic pregnancy, appendicitis and a healthy twin, on the other hand, is "possible, in theory, but not exactly probable." I figured Peyton could be one to prove the theory.


	8. Raven's Fear 1

Author's Note -- I think the sequel, 'A Raven's Cry,' only makes sense when read with the original. Therefore, I moved the sequel, 'A Raven's Fear' in with the original story. I'm sorry for any inconvenience.

A Raven's Fear (Sequel to 'A Raven's Cry')

by The Yellow Dart

Lucas looked at his watch and grinned; for once, he was actually home early. He should probably feel bad about everything that happened today, but he just couldn't. Maybe he was happy knowing he'd get to come home this early from now on.

Walking through the door, he smiled as he saw Peyton lying on top of the covers on the bed. She didn't even look up when the door snapped shut behind him.

Lucas leaned against the door frame, unable to take his eyes off her. A ghost of a smile played on his lips as he watched her draw in her sketchpad, her head bopping to the music playing on her ipod. He was enthralled as he gazed at her legs. She probably had no idea how sexy she looked with her left crossed over the right, and the sketchpad resting on her knee.

Realizing he was almost a stalker, he finally broke his silence. "Hey, you."

Peyton looked startled at the sound of his voice as she hastily pulled the ear buds from her ears. She managed to answer, "Hey, yourself," as she snapped the sketchpad shut and tossed it on her nightstand. "You're home early."

"Yeah. About that . . ."

"What?"

"Never mind." Running a hand across his short hair, he took a few steps toward her. "What are you drawing?"

"Nothing," she answered hurriedly, glancing at the dresser and chewing on her lower lip.

Lucas squinted as he followed Peyton's gaze. "If it's nothing, can I see it?"

"No!" Her reply was a little too sharp. Realizing her mistake, she added, in a softer tone, "Really, it's just a doodle. It's nothing."

"Okay." He dropped the subject for the time being. With a final glance toward the sketchpad, he sighed. The last thing he wanted to do was start another fight. So he plastered a smile on his face and approached the bed.

"And don't think you can get away with changing the subject like that."

With a laugh, he shook his head. "I'm not changing the subject. I'm just . . . curious."

"Lucas . . . " As he came closer, she eyed him warily. "What are you so happy about?"

He shrugged his jacket off and set it on the chair. "You," he said simply.

"Me?" Skeptically, she watched as he kicked off his shoes, put the paper bag that he was holding on his nightstand and stretched out on his side of the bed. In an incredulous tone, she added, "Why?"

He pulled her close, putting a hand against her slightly extended belly, kissed her forehead, and then met her lips. Matching her incredulous tone, he answered, "You really have to ask?"

She shrugged wordlessly against his chest and moved her head so she was no longer meeting his eyes.

Lucas found himself frowning. "Peyton, baby . . ." He trailed his free hand down her cheek. With a low chuckle, he added, "Have you seen yourself? You're kind of hot.

She tried to keep a straight face as she answered, "Hmm, you're not so bad yourself."

Lucas sighed with relief when he saw a smile spread across her face. Over the last three months, her smiles had been few and far between. "Thank you," he said as he met her lips again.

Her fingers threaded through his short hair, pulling him closer. With a slight chuckle, she added, "You know, I sort of like you."

Running both hands through her hair, he pulled her tantalizingly closer. Before their lips met, he said, in a deep voice, "I kind of like you, too."

When the kiss broke, she ran her fingers across his cheek and said, "So you think I'm hot, huh?"

"Oh, yeah," he growled as he unabashedly checked her out. It had been unseasonably hot this week, and Peyton was not taking the heat well. Today, she was wearing one of Lucas's shirts, barely buttoned, and a pair of very short shorts.

"Even dressed like this?" She tugged at her shirt self consciously.

"Especially dressed like this," he answered with a cheeky grin. Running his hand down the soft skin of her left leg, he added, " You know what those legs do to me . . . even if they're still a little chickeny . . ."

"Hey!" She scrunched her face, but couldn't entirely hide the smile that was trying to break through her serious expression. "I don't see you complaining."

"Oh, I'm not. Believe me." He brought his hand under her chin and tilted her face so her eyes met his. "But, seriously, Peyton, you're still way too thin." He didn't wait for her to answer. Instead, he grabbed the paper bag. "And that's why I brought you this."

Snatching the bag out of his hands, Peyton wasted no time ripping it open. "Lucas," she practically squealed when she saw the pint of chocolate ice cream, "I knew I kept you around for a reason." She grabbed a plastic spoon from the bag and took a large spoonful. With her mouth full, she added, "My baby thinks of everything."

Lucas smiled, watching a drop of ice cream wind its path down her chin. He couldn't fight the urge to wipe it away. "I try," he said with a smile as he shrugged innocently. Then, he flashed a sly grin as he said, "Because if Momma ain't happy --"

"-- Ain't nobody happy," Peyton finished. She winked as she said, "So you *have* been listening to me."

He squeezed her thigh. "Always." Then he grabbed at the spoon and said, "What about Daddy? He's pretty hungry, too."

Rolling so the ice cream was just out of his reach, she answered, "Then maybe you should make dinner."

"Already done." When she looked at him incredulously, he added, "I ordered pizza on my way home. It should be here in a few minutes."

"You really *do* think of everything." She took a spoonful of ice cream and thrust it toward him as a reward.

Lucas caught the spoon and licked off the ice cream, letting the cold treat melt in his mouth.

"Good?" she whispered.

"Oh yeah." He brought a hand behind her head, bringing her closer. Pressing his lips against hers, his tongue broke through to explore the chocolate-filled depths of her mouth. "So good."

Moaning softly when the kiss broke, she whispered, "Nice move."

"Nice everything." Just as he was about to kiss her again, the doorbell rang.

Noses still touching, Peyton closed her eyes. "Pizza's here already?"

"I'll get it," he grumbled as he reluctantly pulled away. As he sauntered out of the bedroom and toward the front door, he smiled and said, "Don't get up."

Rolling her eyes, she answered, "I'm not an invalid." But she made no move to get out of bed. "What kind of pizza did you get?"

As Lucas paid the delivery man and slammed the door shut, he said, "Pepperoni." In the kitchen, he grabbed some plates, napkins and drinks.

"Oh . . ." Her tone didn't hide her disappointment.

Lucas's heart sank because he was wrong. Again.

As he walked into the bedroom, balancing the pizza box, plates, napkins and drinks, he managed to say, "You love pepperoni, babe."

"I do." Perched on the bed, she looked at him with a forlorn expression. "Oh, baby, I do."

He cocked his head to the side, eyes squinting, with a knowing smirk spread across his face. "But . . ."

Biting her lip, she smiled sheepishly. Rubbing her belly, she said, "But *your* baby wants sausage, pineapple and hot peppers."

Instead of cringing at the thought of her pizza, he merely set his pizza down on the bed and grabbed his phone out of his pocket. "Sausage, pineapple and . . . hot peppers?"

"Yeah. Don't look at me like that."

He painted an innocent expression on his face. "Like what?"

"Never mind." She reached into the pizza box and pulled out a slice of pepperoni. Taking a large bite, she exclaimed, with her mouth full, "Oh! And mushrooms!"

Lucas groaned inwardly. At least she didn't want a pizza with bologna, egg foo young and butter pecan ice cream . . . again.

Instead of making a comment he knew he'd regret, Lucas merely shrugged and said, "Okay," as he dialed the pizza place and ordered Peyton's sausage, mushroom, pineapple and hot pepper pizza. When he hung up, he said, "It'll be here in 15 minutes."

She looked at him, a seductive smile spread across her face. "My savior." Running her hand across his cheek, she added, "I'm starving.

Lucas looked at the pepperoni pizza box and smiled. Almost half the pizza was already gone. "I guess so."

She rolled her eyes, but didn't retort. Instead, she snuggled against his side and let him wrap his arm around her.

"Hey, do you want me to pop in a movie? Your choice." Lucas moved to get out of bed, but Peyton stopped him.

"Nah, I'm good." With a blissful sigh, she kissed his cheek. "Can we just --"

"-- Kiss?" Lucas captured her lips as he ran a hand down her side, careful not to roll on top of her.

When their lips broke, she sighed and whispered, "Exactly." Her fingers laced through his short hair and brought him even closer.

She put her hand on his chest and pushed him away. "You taste like pepperoni."

With a half-growl, half-chuckle, he exclaimed, "So do you."

Shrugging, she said, "You say that like it's a bad thing."

His eyes locked with hers, "I like pepperoni," he moaned before his lips crashed against hers again. As his hands trailed down her sides and rested on her hips, he groaned, "Do you even know what you do to me?"

"I have a pretty good idea," she answered with a laugh. Her eyes were the picture of innocence, but he knew better.

"You are so beautiful." His voice dropped an octave as he said, "You take my breath away."

She smiled against his lips and let out a small laugh. "Yeah?"

He peppered kisses across her face as he moaned, "Always."

"Oh, Luke . . ." Running a hand down his cheek, she said, "You know I love you."

Raising his eyebrows, he merely nodded and kept exploring her body with his lips. Being so close to her was intoxicating, so he kept moving closer, interlocking his legs between hers.

Moaning against his lips, she whispered, "But, Lucas Scott, please don't start something we both know you can't finish."

Her words killed the mood as quickly as a cold shower. "You're right." Sighing, he reluctantly pulled away; however, he let his hand rest against her side, unable to lose contact completely. "I'm sorry. I never should have . . ."

Unceremoniously flopping on her back, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Don't be such a girl." Looking at him out of the corner of her eye, she flashed a half smile. "I might . . . want you, too."

With a chuckle, he answered, "Good to know. Because, Peyton Sawyer, you know what you do to me."

"Yeah, I can feel it." She brushed her hand against his thigh and smiled as he shuddered at the contact.

With a knowing smirk, he said, "Sorry about that." After a quick kiss on her cheek, he sobered. "I guess I'm just a little --"

"-- Frustrated," she finished, her voice laced with venom.

He rolled away, surprised by her abrupt change in mood. "What? No, that wasn't --"

"-- Well, if you're so frustrated you could always call --"

"-- I don't think you want to finish that sentence," he growled. Her words hit him hard; it was an old, familiar fight.

She stared at him with a hint of defiance in her eyes. "Lindsay. I bet she's ready, willing and *able.*"

Taking a deep breath, he tried to collect his thoughts before he spoke. "Really, Peyton? Is that all you think of me. That I'm just worried about . . . that?"

"Maybe," she said softly, clearly not backing down. But the tears rolling down her cheeks betrayed her harsh words.

He tried to brush her tears away, but she rolled just out of his reach. "That wasn't what I was going to say, and you know it."

"Do I?" Her voice shook, her fear playing out over her obvious anger.

His words came out far more sarcastic than he intended as he said, "God, we both know I can take care of myself until . . ."

"Until what? Until you find someone better?"

"Of course not!" Running a hand through his hair, he continued, "I sure as hell am not going running to anyone else." Looking at her tearstained face, his heart dropped. He covered his face in his hands and took a deep breath before he spoke. He tried to keep his voice calm, but knew he wasn't really succeeding. "God, Peyton, I'm waiting for *you.* I'm not frustrated. I'm --"

"-- If you aren't frustrated, how do I know you aren't fooling around with Lindsay . . . or Brooke or some random skank you met at a bar?"

"Seriously?" He raised his eyebrows, unwilling to believe that they were having this conversation again.

Glaring at him defiantly, she said, "Whenever things get too rough, that's what you do, isn't it?" A few tears fell down her cheeks as she continued, "You just run to someone else."

He couldn't deny it. Seeing the tears fall down her face made his heart break a little, knowing that he had hurt her so badly; but he was not sure why she couldn't just let it go. "Peyton --"

"-- No, Lucas, it's true. I shouldn't be surprised. It's what you do."

"But I haven't *done* anything!" He stood and paced toward the door, running his hands across his face in frustration.

"Yet," she finished.

He whirled around to glare at her. "God, Peyton, can't you realize that I am not running away. Ever."

"Really?" She sat up in bed, her back no longer supported by the pillows. "How can I know that?"

"Because you're it for me." Meeting her at the bed, he trailed a finger down her cheek. "You're the one for me, Peyton Sawyer."

"Isn't that *exactly* what you used to say to Brooke?"

"I didn't know what I meant." With a sigh, he stepped back on his heels. "That was high school. I was confused."

"Exactly. Confused. Like I was. And when I clearly wasn't ready, you wouldn't wait for me."

"I should have waited. But I didn't. What can I say? I was young and stupid."

"Don't forget horny." She tried to hide her tears, but didn't succeed. "When you didn't get what you wanted from me, you jumped in bed with the first girl you saw. First Brooke, then Nikki, then Brooke again --"

"-- God, Peyton, how many times do I have to apologize?" He fell into his desk chair and rested his head in his hands. "I was wrong. How many times do I have to say it?"

"Until I believe you," she shot back. "And it wasn't just in high school, Lucas." Her voice was no longer angry. It wasn't even hurt. Instead, it was almost unemotional. "What about when I told you I wanted to marry you 'someday' and you ran straight to Lindsay?" She didn't let speak before she added, "Or what about the time you said, 'I do,' and it wasn't to me?"

Her words felt like a punch directly to the gut. Voice cracking, he said, "How many times do you want me to say I'm sorry?"

"Until I believe you," she whispered. "Until I feel like I'm not your second choice."

He walked toward her, but stopped just before he reached the bed. "God, Peyton, you've *never* been my second choice. It's always been you."

Not meeting his eyes, she said, "You sure have a funny way of showing it."

"Have you read my books? They're love stories. To you."

Peyton laughed sardonically. "Great! It's good to know that you can write about your love for me as you're saying 'I do' to someone else. Awesome way of showing a girl you love her."

Backing away from the bed, Lucas shouted, "I'm an asshole. What else do you want me to say?" Sure he wasn't going to change her mind, he backed against the door and sank to his knees.

"I don't know." She rolled on her side, looking away from him, effectively ending their conversation.

Lucas heard her soft sobs, but did nothing to comfort her.

They sat in an uncomfortable silence, Lucas against the door, head buried in his hands, and Peyton staring at the wall. Soon, the doorbell rang.

"That's your pizza," he muttered, wondering how everything could have changed so drastically in just fifteen minutes.

Peyton didn't act like she heard him. Instead, she stared at the wall without showing any emotion except for the occasional tear that fell.

He reluctantly stood, grabbed the now-empty box from the bed and walked into the kitchen. After throwing the box a little harder than necessary into the garbage, he answered the door.

After tipping the delivery guy, Lucas took a deep breath and walked into the bedroom with the pizza. Peyton hadn't moved and was still catatonically staring at the wall.

"Peyton," he said cautiously.

"What?" The good news was that she was actually looking at him. The bad news was that she was shooting daggers at him with her eyes.

Feeling like he was stating the obvious, but having no idea what else to say, he said, "Your pizza's here." He leaned in the doorway, holding the pizza, unsure of how to proceed.

"Good." Her voice was calmer than he would have imagined. "Are you going to bring it to me, or are you just going to stand there?"

Without answering, Lucas came to the bed and thrust the pizza at Peyton.

He tried to say something -- anything -- but Peyton spoke first. In an icy voice, she growled, "Get out."

"Peyton, are you sure --"

"-- I said, get out!"

Taking a step back, he held up his hands in defeat. Knowing he was the cause of her suffering was driving him crazy, but he didn't know how to fix it. In his mind, they'd had this fight months ago, and it should be all settled now. "I'll go if that's what you want," he said with resignation. "But are you sure you're going to be okay? Maybe you should call Brooke."

Peyton laughed mirthlessly. "Maybe *you* should call Brooke." She fumbled with the pizza box and managed to grab a slice. "Or -- better yet -- go to Tric and you have my permission to hook up with the first girl who looks at you."

Lucas stayed rooted to his spot near the bed, unable and unwilling to move. "Is that seriously what you think I want to do?"

"I don't know," she admitted, her voice weak and weary. "I'm . . . confused," she admitted.

"Let me help you." He moved to touch her shoulder, but she squirmed away.

"Lucas, please," she pleaded, "I just need some time alone."

He backpedaled a few steps away from the bed. "Okay, I'll go. But just know, I am *not* going to Tric and I'm not going to hook up with anyone. Believe me, Peyton, it's always been you. It will always be you." He flashed a half-smile, but got no response. Sighing, he turned to face her as he approached the door. "I love you."

As he slipped out the door, he heard her sob, "I love you, too."


	9. Raven's Fear 2

Lucas slammed the door behind him, as he strode out purposefully. Heaving a deep breath, he leaned against the closed door, wondering how his night had done a complete 180 in just a matter of minutes.

He could hear Peyton's sobs coming from the bedroom, but, even though it killed him, he couldn't go back in to comfort her. He reached into his pocket for his phone, debating about calling Brooke or Haley to help Peyton. Groaning, he realized that the phone wasn't in his pocket, but on the table next to the bed.

Unable to listen to her cry, and unwilling to go back inside, he aimlessly stared walking. As he passed his car, he leaned in through the open window and grabbed his basketball from the back seat.

As he jogged away from his house, the ball pounded against the asphalt over and over again in a familiar, steady rhythm that always seemed to calm his nerves. Up. Down. Step. Up. Down. Step.

He picked up his pace until he was almost running down the street. Taking a deep breath, he let his mind wander, not really paying attention to where he was going. He didn't register his surroundings until the sidewalk changed to grass and then to asphalt.

His lips curled into a small smile as he stared across the empty River Court. He should have known this was exactly where he'd end up; it had been his refuge, the only place he could think clearly, ever since he was a child.

Stopping his dribble, he twirled the ball on his palm. Everything was so simple with basketball; he didn't have any responsibilities other than running, dribbling, shooting and scoring. And they were second nature to him.

As if to prove a point, he drove to the hoop and put up a right-handed lay-up. The ball hit off the backboard and fell straight into the hoop.

Grabbing the ball before it hit the ground, he took a few steps out behind the three-point arc. Squaring his feet and eyeing the hoop, he let go of the shot with a soft touch and watched it sail through the hoop, nothing but net.

Dribbling to the other side of the court at full speed, he pulled up for a shot just behind the foul line. He ran to grab the ball as it fell through the hoop.

After a few more times up and down the full court, he was almost gasping for air. Wiping the beads of sweat from his forehead, he the sweat poured down his face, he muttered, "I feel so old."

"You look old, too, man."

Lucas spun around toward the sound of his brother's voice. "Nate? What are you doing here?"

"I was gonna shoot around."

"Without your ball?"

With a shrug, Nathan admitted, "Haley talked to Peyton." He stepped onto the court and held out his hands for the ball.

"Of course she did." Instead of passing to Nathan, Lucas dribbled, made a spin move around an unsuspecting Nathan, and laid the ball into the hoop. He bounced the ball maybe a little harder than he should have, and said, "Game to 11?"

Crouching into a defensive position, Nathan chuckled. "If you think you can handle it, old man."

"Oh, I can handle it, little brother. Make it, take it." To prove his point, Lucas spotted up and took a long jump shot. When it sailed through the hoop, he smirked and said, "That's one."

Nathan rolled his eyes as he checked the ball back to Lucas, but said nothing. Instead, he silently got ready to play defense.

Lucas dribbled to the right side, but Nathan followed his every step. Just beyond key to the right, Lucas pulled up and took a fade away jumper over Nathan's outstretched hand. As it sailed through the net, Lucas announced, "That's two."

"Fade away's weak, man," Nathan said with a smirk.

With a shrug, Lucas countered, "It's beating you."

Chuckling, Nathan said, "Touché," as he checked the ball to Lucas again.

This time, Lucas tried to drive to the hoop, looking down as he took a cross over dribble to the left. He faltered as his eyes gazed over the Cure lyrics Peyton had painted there just a few short months ago. She loved him. She would always love him. Although the paint had barely faded, it seemed like a lifetime ago.

The split second it took for Lucas to gain back his composure, Nathan anticipated his move and had slapped the ball away. In a few quick steps, he took the ball hard to the hole and slammed it home. His eyes sparking with mirth, Nathan taunted, "Like I said, the fade away is weak as hell."

Checking the ball back, Lucas slammed it hard into the ground. "Shut up and play."

Nathan took a second to shrug, dribbled left and cut right, leaving Lucas off balance. Before Lucas could recover, Nathan squared for a jump shot that sailed through the hoop. "Tie game."

The next eight points went to Nathan easily. Lucas barely even put up a fight. He was weak on defense, sometimes barely even guarding Nathan. All Lucas could think about were the lyrics painted on the court, taunting him. I will always love you. Whatever words I say, I will always love you. I will always love you.

Nathan's voice cut through Lucas's thoughts. "Dude, are you going to make this a challenge at all?"

Lucas shrugged as he checked the ball to Nathan and said, "Game point."

Catching the ball and immediately putting up an effortless jump shot, Nathan watched as the ball sailed through the hoop, nothing but net.

Lucas slowly moved to grab the ball as it bounced to the court below the hoop. "Good game, Nate." Clutching the ball in front of him, he eased his body down until he was sitting on the court, right in the middle of the comet Peyton had painted. Hanging his head, he admitted, "I guess I suck."

"You do suck." Nathan eased himself to the ground across from Lucas. "But are you going to tell me what's wrong, or what?"

"Let it go, man. Nothing's wrong."

"I doubt that." Nathan laughed sardonically. "You might be out of practice, but you didn't even guard me, man."

"I told you, I'm old --"

"-- Yeah, yeah, and you have a heart condition and can't play at full speed."

Lucas shrugged, saying nothing in response. Instead, he got up and slammed the ball into the pavement.

Nathan remained seated at center court, unfazed as the ball sailed by his head. His voice dropped, as he said, "But that's not it, and we both know it."

Lucas groaned and shook his head. "Just leave it alone." Standing at center court, he threw up a shot that didn't even come close to the hoop before he sank down heavily.

"Seriously?" Nathan raised his eyebrows as he watched the ball bounce off the court.

"Shut up."

After a few minutes sitting in silence, Nathan finally broke the ice. "Look, man, we both know why I'm here. Are you gonna talk, or what?"

"Just tell Haley I'm fine."

Nathan scoffed. "If I go home with nothing but, 'He's fine,' we both know Haley's gonna kick my ass."

"Yeah," Lucas admitted with a knowing chuckle. "She might be small, but she's wiry."

Grinning, Nathan said, "She sure is." He added, "And don't forget tenacious. If I don't come back with something --"

"-- She's not gonna let it go, is she?" Lucas raked a hand through his hair and sighed.

With a grin, Nathan said, "You know she's not, so you'd better start talking." Voice dropping, he added, "You know she's just worried about you guys."

Lucas shook his head, but made no effort to talk.

Nathan took a deep breath and said, "Peyton seems really messed up, man. Hales said she was crying on the phone."

Lucas squinted as he watched the setting sun, unwilling to look at Nathan, and unable to put his thoughts into words.

"So I have to ask, dude. What the hell did you do?"

Immediately, Lucas responded defensively, "Nothing." Lucas sat back on his hands and sighed. "Everything," he admitted.

"That sounds about right."

Raising an eyebrow, Lucas looked at Nathan skeptically. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

Nathan shrugged. "I'm not wrong, am I?"

"No," Lucas admitted. "I don't know." Shaking his head in disbelief, he began, "It's all happening so fast. And it's just so . . . hard."

With a knowing smirk, Nathan guessed, "Hormones?"

"Maybe? I don't know." Lucas threw his hands up in exasperation. "I guess it's mood swings or something. Maybe it's more than that."

Nathan groaned in sympathy. "I feel you, man. When Hales was pregnant, the mood swings were so sudden --"

"-- Tell me about it. She's like a brick wall. She's always let me see her deepest fears and desires, but now, she's doing her best to shut me out. I can't read her. And every time I think I might understand, she surprises me with something totally different."

"Sounds familiar."

Lucas rolled his eyes and said, "Like tonight, one minute, we were joking and ordering pizza, and the next -- totally out of the blue -- she accused me of sleeping with every woman in Tree Hill."

"You didn't . . . did you?"

Lucas wished he still had the ball in his hands so he could whip it at Nathan. Not dignifying his brother's question with an answer, Lucas said, "I thought we were so far past this. She told me she was okay with everything."

"Lindsay?"

Lucas shrugged. Still unable to look Nathan in the eye, Lucas looked down at the ground as he admitted, "Yeah."

"But she isn't okay?"

"Of course not." Lucas closed his eyes for a moment. "It's more than just Lindsay."

"Oh? Is she mad about Brooke, too?"

Lucas opened his eyes and stared at his brother. "Do you really want me to walk away right now?"

"Nah, Haley would kill me." After a moment, he added, "Sorry, man. Seriously, what do you think she's upset about?"

Lucas traced the outline of the comet with his index finger. "She blames me, man."

Nathan raised his eyebrows. "For what."

"For everything." Lucas grabbed a rock from the court and heaved it off to the side. "She blames me for not being there for her. God, I blame myself for not being there for her . . ."

"Is she mad at you for going to LA? You couldn't have known --"

"-- That doesn't matter. I should have realized something wasn't right." Lucas buried his face in his hands. "I shouldn't have left. She shouldn't have had to go through this alone."

Nathan snorted and let out a strangled chuckle. "Really? You think you could have changed anything?"

"I don't know," Lucas admitted. He stood and walked off the court to grab the ball. "Does it matter?" He turned away from Nathan and took a shot that sailed through the hoop.

Nathan jogged to grab the ball after it fell to the ground. "Yeah, it matters." He tossed the ball back to Lucas.

"I don't think so. I should have done more." Lucas pounded the ball into the ground a few times before he said, "I should *do* more. Peyton is going through hell, but she won't let me in." He heaved a wild shot at the basket that crashed against the backboard. "We lost a baby, Nate. Don't you get it?"

"Luke --"

"-- And I'm going through hell, too."

Nathan took a few steps toward Lucas and clapped him on the back. "I know you are. You lost a baby."

Lucas took a shuddering deep breath. "We lost a baby." He stared at the ball as he whispered, "I can't help Peyton when I don't even know how to help myself." He looked and sighed. "She's suffering, Nate, and for once, I don't know how to help her get through this."

Nathan bit his lip and stared at his brother. After a moment, he admitted, "God, Luke, I don't know what to say."

"Damn it, the baby we lost -- it was my baby, too. And just thinking about it hurts. So much." He pounded the ball into the ground for emphasis. "That day . . . was the worst day of my life. We lost a baby, and, even worse, I almost lost her." Clutching the ball to his hip, he ran a hand through his hair. "I never want that to happen again. That's why . . . I quit today."

"You what?"

"The movie. I quit. Today."

Nathan looked at Lucas like he was crazy. "You quit the movie? Does Peyton know?"

"Not . . . exactly." He shrugged sheepishly. "She kicked me out before I could tell her. But I'm not going back. I can't put myself in a situation like that again."

With a knowing grin, Nathan asked, "What did Julian say?"

Lucas shrugged. "He'll understand. Eventually." Gazing down at the words painted on the court, his lips curled into a soft smile. "Peyton is my priority. Not some damned movie. They have a script, a director and a cast. That's enough. So I got out."

"Okay, I'm not gonna argue." In one fluid motion, Nathan caught a pass from Lucas and took a shot that banked off the board and fell through the hoop.

As Lucas retrieved the ball, he said, "She's having such a hard time . . . with the pregnancy. Her surgery incisions haven't really healed right. And, as her belly grows, he incisions grow."

Nathan cringed. "That has to hurt like hell."

"It looks like torture, even though she won't admit it." Lucas sighed. "You know, she doesn't even acknowledge that she's still pregnant. All she does is dwell on the baby we lost, and she won't let herself talk about the baby we still have." He knew he was rambling, but the words kept spilling out. "I want to talk about it. I think it's a miracle, and I want to be happy about that miracle. Am I wrong?" He stared at Nathan with pleading eyes.

Nathan smiled and said, "Of course not. You should be happy."

"I am so glad that she's alive and safe. And we still have a baby, one that -- despite the odds -- seems to be doing well. But . . . I feel . . . wrong. Like I'm rejoicing for one life when another life has been lost."

"You're not wrong, Luke. Peyton's okay. One of your babies is okay. Maybe you should celebrate."

"I don't know. I just don't know."

Nathan grabbed the ball from Lucas and quirked an eyebrow. "Horse?"

"Yeah." He turned to face Nathan and smiled. "Thanks, man."

"Any time." Nathan spun around and took an acrobatic hook shot from around the foul line. "Now, enough with this sappy stuff. Let's play."

Lucas smiled, feeling like a small weight was lifted from his shoulders. "Game on."

To be continued.


	10. Raven's Fear 3

"That's an 'E,'" Lucas exclaimed with a grin, jogging to catch the ball that had bricked off the backboard.

Nathan chuckled. "I let you win."

"Whatever you say." Lucas shrugged, and added, "Sounds like denial to me."

"I've got to go, anyway." Nathan pulled his phone out of a back pocket and frowned. "It's after nine."

"Go, see your wife and kid," Lucas declared.

Nathan clapped Lucas on the back and said, "You should go home, too, you know."

"I will . . . soon. I just want to shoot around a little more. You know, clear my mind."

"As good as it feels, shooting around -- alone -- on a dark court can't really solve your problems." With a morose chuckle, he added, "I should know."

"Get out of here, little brother." Lucas pushed him on the shoulder to reinforce his point. "And tell my very nosy best friend that I'm *fine* --" He pretended to sigh dramatically. "-- and that I love her for caring."

"Right. Fine." As Nathan walked off the court, he exclaimed over his shoulder, "Talk to your girl, Luke. You' be amazed at how well it works."

"Spoken like the relationship guru himself."

"Talk to Peyton, man, --" Nathan smiled widely. "-- or else I'm sending Haley after you."

"Go *home,* Nathan!" Lucas turned his back on his brother and made a show of dribbling toward the hoop.

"At least turn the lights on."

Lucas didn't answer his brother and didn't turn around until he no longer heard Nathan's footsteps in the distance. Even though he could barely see the hoop, he refused to turn the lights on. Without the light, Peyton's drawing and lyrics couldn't mock him.

After shooting a few three pointers, the darkness began to get to Lucas. He realized that he really couldn't see the hoop, so he grabbed the ball and meandered off the court. His legs feeling heavy with the weight of his thoughts, Lucas sat at the picnic table, just off the court, staring blankly at the river. It was too dark to really see the water, but he didn't care.

Spinning the ball between his hands, Lucas lamented the fact that life wasn't as easy as a simple game of horse. Basketball had always been so easy. Life, on the other hand . . . sucked. Defeated, Lucas leaned back until he was lying prone on the picnic table.

Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and tried to remember a time when his life easy -- where the biggest thing he had to worry about was defending his nearly-undefeated record on this court against Skills, Fergie and Junk. And when he spent all day -- and all night -- dreaming about Peyton Sawyer.

Years ago, he'd finally gotten the nerve to talk to Peyton Sawyer. Hell, somehow, he'd even convinced Peyton Sawyer to kiss him . . . more than once . . . and more than just the peck on the lips he'd imagined back then. And, even in his wildest childhood dreams, he'd never really believed that Peyton Sawyer would really agree to marry him.

Now that all of his childhood dreams were so close to coming true, teenaged Lucas Scott would probably kill him for making it all so complicated.

Absorbed in his thoughts, Lucas nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a soft hand on his shoulder. "Peyton," he whispered, desperately hoping she wasn't a dream or a figment of his imagination.

She stood before him wearing a pair of sweat pants that scrunched just below her knees and his old Ravens t-shirt; her hair was hastily pulled up into a messy ponytail. Chewing on her lower lip, she tucked a stay lock of hair behind her right ear. "Hey . . . uh, is this seat taken?"

Immediately, he sat up and moved a little to the left. "Of course not," he said, indicating that she should sit next to him, flashing a tentative smile. He put a hand on her back to help her climb onto the picnic table, breathing a sigh of relief when she didn't shy away from his touch.

Maneuvering her body next to his, Peyton chuckled nervously as she said, "I didn't mean to scare you."

In any other situation, he might have made a joke about his heart, but this time, he merely said, "I'm glad you're here."

"I missed you," she breathed.

His lips curled into a small smile. "Missed you, too." They sat, wrapped in each other's arms, simply enjoying the comfort of being together. After a moment's contemplation, Lucas asked, "How'd you get here?" Voice taking on an overprotective tone, he added, "You didn't walk, did you?"

"We've been through this." Pulling out of the hug, her voice dropped dangerously low as she countered, "I'm not on bed rest, Lucas."

"I know, but the doctor said --"

"-- Light activity is okay. Are we really going to fight about this?"

"No," he declared, running a hand down her cheek. "I just don't want anything to happen to you."

"I understand. Really, I do. But, baby, I was going crazy sitting in that bed." Before he could argue, she pointed to the parking lot, which was empty except for a single car -- her Mercury Comet. "But I knew you wouldn't want me to walk. That's why I drove."

"I . . . worry about you." His serious expression turned to a teasing smirk as he added, "You know you love it."

Rolling her eyes, she admitted, "You're right. I kind of do."

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, a little surprised that she didn't pull away. When he pressed his lips against hers, she cupped his cheek in her hand and deepened their kiss.

With their lips mere millimeters apart, her breath hot against his cheek, she whispered, "I love you."

Sneaking another quick kiss, Lucas answered, "I love you, too." When she settled against his side, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Sensing that she wanted to talk, but not really knowing what to say, he settled for, "How'd you know I was here?"

"I know you, Lucas Scott." With a soft laugh, she tried to joke, "I mean, after I didn't find you at TRIC or at the strip club --"

"-- Not funny."

"It was a little funny."

"Maybe a little." With a half-smile, he placed a soft kiss on the top of her head. "Anyway, you know, it's still too early to go to the strip club."

With eyebrows raised, she demanded, "How do you know that?"

They looked at each other and said, in unison, "Tim."

After a few moments of comfortable silence, Peyton sighed as she leaned into his embrace. "You know I didn't mean it . . . what I said before. I know I'm not your second choice."

"It's always been you," he breathed. He met her waiting lips in a short, sweet kiss. Mouths still almost touching, he whispered, "Always."

"I know." Letting out a soft laugh, she said, "I *did* read your book, you know."

"True, you might be the only person who read 'The Comet,'" he said with a self-depreciating smirk.

Her hand worked its way under his shirt so her hand rested on the bare skin of his side and stomach just above his pants. "It brought us back together."

"Yeah, it did."

"But I was talking about 'Ravens.' I'm not sure I actually finished 'The Comet.'"

Shaking his head, he said, "I love my book." He put his hand against her cheek and forced her to look in his eyes.

She looked at him skeptically. "As long as you do . . ."

Rolling his eyes, he decided to change the subject. "I did some reading, too."

"Oh yeah?"

"I read something *you* wrote."

"Really?"

Lucas chuckled at her obvious confusion. He decided to give her a hint. "A few weeks ago, I met a girl named Molly who said she knew you."

Her face showed signs of recognition as she said, "Oh."

"It was the strangest thing. She came into my office at school, and she had a picture --"

"-- of my closet door?" Peyton grinned and her eyes sparkled with laughter.

As he nodded, he ran his index finger down her cheek. "She wanted me to give it to you --"

"-- but you kept it." Her tone was sarcastic, but she couldn't hide a smile that played across her lips.

"Hey, my office, my picture, babe." After sneaking a quick kiss, he added, "It reminds me that you are my true love . . . always."

"Always," she echoed. "Even when you forget it."

"I never forgot it."

Raising her eyebrows, she cocked her head to the side skeptically. "Really?"

"As hard as my head might try to forget, it's always been you --" He clapped his hands against his heart. "-- right here. After as badly as I've screwed up, I wonder why you're still with me."

She covered his hands against his heart and said, with a straight face, "It helps that you're hot."

He didn't even acknowledge her comment with a smile. "I'm serious. In LA, you said that you wanted to marry me someday, and I couldn't just wait until you were ready."

Pulling away, she said, "Don't . . ."

"I'm so sorry, Peyton. I can't even tell you why --"

She put her hands on his cheeks and tried to get him to look at her. "-- Lucas, it's over."

He pulled away. "I . . . I have no excuse. You're right; I can write what I feel, but I can't say it."

"We were both so young. So stupid. I forgave you a long time ago."

Unable to look at her, he buried his face in his hands. "I'm an insecure jerk."

"You're right. You are a jerk."

His voice cracked as he said, "I've made so many mistakes." After a deep breath, he whispered, "Why'd you take me back?"

Peyton gripped his shoulders in a tight hug. "Because you're my asshole."

He chuckled as he leaned in to kiss her. Applying light pressure against her chest, he helped her lean back until she was on her back on the picnic table with him on his side next to her. She brought her hands up against the back of his head and brought his lips down to hers.

When their lips broke, she sighed and said, "No one else has ever made me feel like this."

Leaning in for another kiss, he was careful to keep his weight off her, but he made a point to move his hips against hers. "You're the only person who can do this to me," he insisted. "And even if we can't . . . do this, I'll wait for you."

She brought her hand under his shirt and traced patterns against the skin of his stomach. "Really?"

"Believe me, I don't want to do anything that will hurt you . . . or our baby. I just . . . miss you," he admitted.

As the tears fell down her cheeks, he brushed then away with his thumbs. She sobbed, "I miss you, too." Her words came out as half-sobs, "You have no idea how much I need you."

He clutched her against his chest and whispered into her ear, "Whether the doctor says it's safe tomorrow or if we have to wait months, I'll wait for you." He kissed her forehead, cheeks and neck as he let his fingers trace a path across her stomach.

Almost out of the blue, she exclaimed, "Of course I don't really think you're hooking up with every woman in Tree Hill. Just because --"

He didn't let her finish her sentence. "-- I love *you,* Peyton." He flashed a conspiratorial smirk before he added, "You're the only woman I'm going to hook up with. For the rest of my life." After a quick peck on her cheek, he added, "I am so sorry for everything I've done to make you doubt that."

"I don't doubt it. I don't doubt *us.*" She sighed. "It's my fault."

"What?" When she made no move to answer, he put his finger under her chin and turned her face toward his. "Tell me."

Turning away from him, she spoke so softly he almost couldn't hear her, "I'm afraid . . . I don't want . . . you to hate me."

Squinting, he cocked his head to the side. "Hate you? For what."

His heart nearly broke as she sobbed, "For losing our baby."

Although he'd had a feeling that she thought she might be responsible for the miscarriage, hearing her admit it broke his heart. Gathering her in his arms, he pulled her against his chest. Wiping the tears from her cheeks, he declared, "It's not your fault. It's no one's fault."

"But our baby --"

Putting a finger against her lips, he exclaimed, "-- Don't finish that sentence." He had a feeling he knew exactly what she was feeling. Insecure. Responsible. Self-conscious. Moving his hand around to cup her face, he declared, "You have nothing to be sorry for."

"But we lost a *baby* --"

"-- and it's not your fault." Wiping a few more tears from her cheeks, he reiterated, "It's not."

"But, Luke," she protested weakly. Unable to look him in the eye, she burrowed her face against his chest, but let her hand rest against her belly. "Will you hate me if I lose this baby, too?"

"You're *not* going to lose this baby, Peyton." He covered her hand with his larger hand. "And, besides, how could I ever hate you?"

"I don't know." Snapping her eyes shut, she took a shuddering deep breath. "I'm just so scared. Of everything, of tomorrow, of the rest of our lives --"

"-- I'm scared, too." He cut her off, hopefully letting her know that she wasn't alone, and that he felt the same way.

"You are?" She laid her head against his chest and gazed into his eyes.

Running his hand through her hair, his voice was barely louder than a whisper as he admitted, "I was so scared I lost you that day. But you're okay. And our baby --" Running a hand across her belly, he closed his eyes. "-- is such a miracle. And I'm scared about what we'll find out tomorrow because . . . it feels like things are going --"

"-- Too well?"

He raised his eyebrows and nodded. "I am so scared that I am going to wake up from a dream and find myself on that plane home from LA . . . where all my worst fears will come true." Burring his head in his hands, he shied away from her gentle touch. "I know I deserve it; I've made some really stupid choices in my life . . . And I know I should have been there for you that day --"

"-- But you were. You were there when I woke up, and you've been there for me every day since. Every doctor's appointment, every mood swing, every craving --"

"-- Yeah, but I wasn't there when you collapsed."

"What could you have done?"

He released a sharp breath. "I know I wouldn't have been able to stop it. And I know *neither* of us could have done anything to save the baby we lost. But . . . if I would have lost you that day, I would have never forgiven myself."

Shaking her head, she put a finger against his mouth. "We're a mess, aren't we?"

"Yeah, we are." He chuckled. "Maybe tomorrow, we'll find out that everything's going to be okay with this baby. And we'll both feel better."

"I hope so." She certainly didn't sound like she realistically believed that was a possibility. "I don't want to get my hopes up." Struggling to sit up, she said, "But I really want to be happy."

"Me, too." Lucas squeezed her shoulder, trying to reassure her, as he helped her ease into a sitting position. Even though their initial ultrasound after the surgery had shown that their second baby seemed healthy, until the doctors could be completely positive -- rather than 'cautiously optimistic' -- neither would be able to be truly happy. "It just feels like . . . we deserve a break, you know."

Easing herself off the picnic table, she stood between his legs and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Just hold me."

He wrapped his arms around her back and pulled her as close as he could, closing his eyes and resting his head on her shoulder. Maybe it wouldn't necessarily fix her, but holding her like this sure fixed him.

Author's note: I'm debating whether to write an epilogue to the prequel, 'A Raven's Cry' that shows the ultrasound and other tests the next morning that prove that the second baby appears okay. However, I am not sure if it would really add anything to the story. It also kind of seems like I'd be rehashing old story lines like the Naley story in the 4th season after Haley was hit by the car. I don't normally ask for comments, but I would love to know if readers (if there are any after my long gaps between parts ;)) would like to see that scene. Thanks. :)


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